This guy can do anything!

He drew a photo of my beloved Afghan Hound when she slipped away from us too soon. He picked up a photo of my beloved Italian ancestral village, and drew that ... he brought me a sketch of my German shepherd just days after I had to say goodbye to her. Why wouldn't I ask Tom Wills to make a drawing from my favorite photo, aside on my first, and still my most beloved, Arabian?

The photo from which this was made was taken by Patti Fife, who was a Vindicator photographer at the same time I was a reporter there. The setting is Tom Schubert's Vienna horse farm, where I boarded this and several subsequent horses (and sometimes wish I still did, because taking care of a barnful of horses is hard work!).
A lot of "society ladies" have paintings of theirselves over the fireplace. This is as close as I can come -- because I obviously come from a different society! I cannot wait to hang it on the wall!

Put the crate in the car, and go!

It's dog rescue day. I'm reneging on attending a wedding today -- a wedding I wanted to attend -- because the call has gone out to rescue a batch of pups from a sweltering shelter in Kentucky.
The rescue consists of a bunch of drivers taking "bucket brigade" turns at moving endangered pets from kill shelters (those that keep them only a few weeks or months before "putting them to sleep") to no-kill, foster homes or new permanent homes, usually in the Northeast and Canada. I join the convoy whenever I can, and today I can!
I've put a large-sized dog crate in the back of the Audi -- with the back seat down, and very careful engineering, I can do that without ruining the upholstery -- and stashed fresh water, leashes, paper towels and collars on the floor. Now I'm ready for Rocket, who I'm told is a bit frisky. There will also be an assortment of smaller and younger dogs, on their way to New York State.
It's too hot to drive. It's too hot to handle dogs. But if I want to sleep tonight, I've got to go, and to remind myself how lucky I am to be able to care for my own pets.

And there it is ...

The Flair is in place. I am one contented woman! Everything works except the clock, and I'll take care of that very soon! What a magnificent range this is - one wonders why appliance makers don't understand anymore about creating quality that lasts. (Of course, maybe they do -- the truth is, today's appliances have a 10-year life span, and that means ... *ta-da* ... MORE SALES!)

I've baked in both ovens and cooked on all the burners, despite 100-degree heat. I love it! Even the cats love it, and cats, as you know, are very picky.

I'm a woman with a 'Certain Flair'

More years ago than I want to admit, I was a young bride in a newly built house. That house featured a tiny kitchen with a great, brand-new Tappan wall oven and cooktop. But was I delighted? No.

I lusted, you see, for a Frigidaire Flair ... the star of the "Kitchen of Tomorrow" line, a gleaming masterpiece of glass and chrome, with burners that were hidden until you pulled out the drawer at countertop height. Built throughout the 1960s and featured everywhere dream kitchens were shown -- for instance, on "Bewitched." What a dream! And forever out of reach.

Until now. Quirky fate put me into a lovely period home a few months ago, and as I looked around the kitchen, there it was: a Flair! Double ovens, hidden burners -- the whole thing. The homeowner told me it was there when they bought the house. I fell in love all over again.

For days, I thought about that stove. Then, as I always do, I wandered to the computer, typed in "Frigidaire Flair," and was astounded to find they are coveted even today by cooks and collectors, and they're still around to be bought!

First I went onto some restored-appliances sites -- and got off in a hurry. Wow. What prices.

Finally, I wandered onto e-Bay. And found, just south of Lexington, Kentucky, a "Flair and a spare" for sale. The second one was just for parts, it said, and would be included in the sale price.

Long story shortened: $100 for the stove(s), another $325 for shipping, and it (they) now sit(s) in the basement, undergoing some cleaning before I bite the bullet, saw into the base cabinet in my 1960s kitchen, and install the newcomer. My home is 190 years old, but the kitchen, as the newest room in the place, was built in 1960. How appropriate is that?

How can I describe this appliance to a generation that's gotten accustomed to overpriced ranges, washers, dryers, even furnaces with 10-year life spans? Think 1950s Cadillac. I mean it: heavy chrome, heavier glass, built to last a lifetime.

The Flairs lost their popularity as self-cleaning ovens were introduced. I sure don't know why ... they could have just added a self-cleaning feature, although the chrome interior wipes off so easily there's no need for any other method.

The photos in this article are of Flairs installed in restored 1960s -era kitchens. It's just how mine will look.

I have these cabinets. I even have this cat. I can't wait.