1946 was a memorable year, with such noticeable events as the debut in Paris of the Bikini and the introduction to the US consumer of Tupperware. It was also the year the microwave oven was invented by Percy L. Spencer, plus the year I entered the world on a cold early morning, courtesy of Mac and Dorothy.
In my lifetime I have owned an itsy bitsy teeny weeny green bikini and endless Tupperware containers but unlike 90% of Americans, I have never owned a microwave oven. Our kitchen actually had a space perfect to house one, but because wine is a more important commodity in our house, I had a wine rack built and until recently had never had regrets with my decision.
Ah, sweet retirement and the luxury of staying in bed binging on Netflix and drinking endless cups of once hot, now lukewarm coffee. I admit I had occasional thoughts of buying a microwave, but it wasn't until that fateful day a few weeks ago, when I removed a bowl of leftover cold vegetarian meatballs swimming in a congealed pool of tomato sauce that I was convinced that what I needed to make my lunch and life perfect was a microwave.
Lo and behold, let me introduce the newest member of our family - my new red microwave. I admit I now find myself wondering why it took me so long to buy one. I love using it and I love the way it fits in perfectly with our black and white retro kitchen. Best of all I like to think of the microwave as a birthday present from Mr. Spencer, invented just for me to make my leftovers eatable.
