So the other day I was busy with something or other and my coffee went cold before I got back to it. As is my habit, I set the mug in the microwave and pushed a button. At which time the microwave gave a sad, little 'poof' and died.
I checked the electric outlet to make sure that was working. Yep. It was fine. I was now the proud owner of a very dead appliance. And I still had a cold mug of coffee. That would never do. In my house, coffee is the elixir of life.
I may have inherited my love of coffee from my Mother. Growing up, I can't remember a time when she didn't have a cup of coffee within reach. And I remember that when her coffee went cold, she poured it into a small saucepan and heated it on the stove. Mother lived before microwaves were common.
So that's what I did.
I also had filled a small casserole dish with leftovers from supper the night before, planning to microwave them to eat that evening. Plopped the lid on the dish and into the oven it went for 20 minutes. Supper was served.
Got to thinking about whether I really needed a new microwave. I fed four children for many years without one. I used mine just to reheat some foods and I have a perfectly good kitchen stove for that purpose. And I really do not care for microwave popcorn. Popcorn tastes much better when popped in a cast iron skillet.
Perhaps the time has come to get back to the basics. These days it seems like the future is more uncertain than in recent years. My parents and grandparents managed just fine during hard times because they knew how to do stuff.
My parents were preppers but they just didn't know it. They had a huge garden every summer and in the fall the canners were going nearly every day, preserving everything from corn and beans to pickles and fruit and jam. Dad didn't farm, but he either bought or traded for beef and pork and chickens for the freezer from our farmer neighbors.
The closest grocery store was ten miles away. There was no running to the store for a loaf of bread, especially when the winter blizzards closed the roads for days on end. It was a rare occasion that the bread on the table was not home made.
They not only survived, my parents and grandparents. They thrived. They knew how to do what needed to be done without the modern conveniences.
I really don't want to go so far as to wash clothes in a washtub using a washboard to scrub them clean, but I know how. I have done that.
Perhaps using some of the knowledge of the basics might be a good thing. At the very least, we will know if we can take care of ourselves and our families should hard times come again. And if we find we can't, maybe it is time to learn.