Mixing It Up

This is a story of a Kitchenaid. My Kitchenaid.

I obtained it when my mom died. It was one thingI was glad to get. Most of the other cleaning of the house involved an overwhelming bunch of items that had no relevance to where I was in life. But a Kitchenaid mixer? Yessirreebob.

My mom was always trying ti give me “stuff.” We would go over for Sunday dinner and I would try and get out before the , “Oh, do you want this?” Would ring in my head.

“No, thanks.”

I detected a bit of huff and disappointment when I said no. But good gardenia. I was on overload with four kids, working full-time and having a house that was already full of leftovers.

But that Kitchenaid represented something.

It isn’t that I have memories of my mom being a spectacular baker. She baked cakes and made some frozen banana and Cool Whip and pineapple deal. I don’t really remember cookies.

She was always on a diet.

Until she wasn’t.

Never put a box of Esther Price candy in front of her.

But back to the mixer.

With four kids, two at Moeller high school, where we paid tuition, the last thing that was on my shopping list was buying a Kitchenaid. It was expensive.

So when I brought that Kitchenaid home, I thought I had died and gone to heaven.

Whoops, I mean my mom died and went to heaven …after a stop at Vorhis Funeral home anda bit of a ride through Norwood, to Spring Grove Cemetery, where she was pleased as a UDF ice cream cone, to be interred, along with the Proctors and Gambles.

That was 21 years ago. And ohm my licorice, I just thought this … this was the first year that on January 2, I didn’t think of her and the day that she died. I can’t believe that happened.

It must have been that I felt like sewage and had breast cancer surgery upcoming.

But still.

For years, I made cookies, bread, pie crust, cookie bars, brownies, etc.

It did a good job.

As I have done more baking and advanced, (woohoo), I have become more aware of what my old Kitchenaid doesn’t do.

I mentioned mixers, yesterday. I have been cruising YouTube and watching comparisons. I found one that I like, the Bosch.

But last night, while running bath water, I found what appears to be a mixer of the galaxy. It has a weird name I have never heard. It is made by Electrolux, which I connect with vacuums. It is an Ankarsrum. Oh my great monkey balls, it is cool, cool, cool.

I have been watching Jerry Seinfeld’s show, “Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee.” At the beginning of each show, Jerry goes over the details of the car he is driving. He is a car nut. He talks liters, horsepower, this and that about the engine and interior and exterior.

He is passionate about his cars.

Yesterday, I thought, oh heck, should I invest in a new mixer or simply use what I have. Am I being ridiculous? Shouldn’t I be satisfied with what I have? But then there is that part of me that is, well, wouldn’t that be fun. I would use it. I know it.

Not that I would get that super, duper one I saw yesterday. But the Bosch, maybe.

But you should have heard the smooth sound of the motor on that Ankarsrum! II think Jerry would have gotten a thrill … if it had wheels.

I have never been one to want jewelry or shoes or handbags. I use like to make sure that I am covered. But supplies, tools that I use? Those are my thing. I have always had good computers and printers and paints and fiber.

So … this is a tool. Isn’t it?

Maybe I will take a vote. And maybe, just maybe, I have outgrown my mom’s Kitchenaid. Justifying.

I could make more good things. Justifying. I want a new toy. Justifying.

I am feeling it, folks.

I am ready to get excited. And … my birthday is in less than two weeks.




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