Toast to an old friend.

I had to say good-bye to a dear friend. We'd been through a lot together. This is hard.

See, when I got my first apartment, my grandma gave me an extra toaster. She preferred the one she'd had for 50 years, and I couldn't blame her - it made the best toast. Someone had given her this "new" toaster, and she'd kept it as a back-up, but never used it. When she gave me this back-up toaster, it was in the box. And the box contained coupons for 10 cents off a loaf of bread. The coupons expired in 1978.

This was 1996.

So, The Toaster and I began a beautiful relationship.

I love me some toast, and The Toaster never failed me. We moved 9 times together, but the toast never changed. It was crunchy but not burnt, soft but not gooey. The Toaster was from a time when men were men and appliances were appliances. The Toaster was built to last.

When I got married and My Guy asked if we should register for a new toaster, I scoffed. There would be no other toaster. There was One True Toaster. The 3 of us settled into a happy home.

A few months ago, The Toaster sort of popped his lid. His metal casing kind of exploded, and I couldn't get it to pop back together. Luckily, I am married to A Man, and he did some sort of manly magic to right The Toaster. Everything was fine. It was so fine, in fact, that The Toaster and I experienced a kind of Toast Renaissance. I rediscovered toast - cinnamon toast, peanut butter toast, even toast with a runny egg and A-1 Steak Sauce. Everything was great.

Until last weekend.

Last weekend, I pulled The Toaster out of his nest in the lazy susan. When I set him on the kitchen counter, his guts just kind of went everywhere. The metal casing went all cattywampus, and the lever for assigning the level of toastiness popped off and flew across the room. It was bad. Real bad.

My Guy spent about 20 minutes that night piecing The Toaster back together. But even when things looked OK-ish, the lever still wouldn't smoosh back together. And then there was the little detail about The Toaster buzzing violently whenever we plugged it in.

"Babe, this just isn't safe," my sweet husband said. "It's time. It's time to get a new toaster."

I ordered the highest rated metal toaster I could find on Amazon that didn't cost a gajillion dollars. I love me some toast, but there is no way I'm spending more than $40 on a toaster. The new toaster arrived a few days ago, but I couldn't even open the box.

The Toaster was still on the kitchen counter.

I just wasn't ready.

So, here's a photographic retrospective of my time with The Toaster. I encourage you to listen to Boyz II Men's "It's so hard to say good-bye to yesterday" or maybe Sarah McLaughlin's "I will remember you" while perusing this album.

The Toaster was a super fun dude. We had some good times.

Road trip!

Ain't no party like an appliance party cuz an appliance party don't stop unless someone throws a breaker!

This was an epic night. The Toaster didn't remember much the next day. But he was in better shape than that drunk-ass blender. That dude can never hold his liquor.

The Toaster and I had quiet times, too. He was a particular fan of Hungry, Hungry Hippos.

Once things went bad, we tried everything to make The Toaster feel better. The ace bandage didn't even help. And if Bactine can't fix it? Well, you're in trouble.

In the end, we opted for a Viking funeral. It was so hard, but it was what he wanted.

If you need me, I'll be home, eating untoasted bread and raising a glass to a friend who gave all he had to give.