When my mom was here last, she offered me her hand mixer. That thing is older than I am, and that’s saying something. It’s also all chrome retro-future rocket shaped. Just looking at it made me taste seven minute frosting, which is what I usually got to lick off those beaters as a wee thing. She warned me that the beaters only sort of stay in, but I couldn’t resist it. I donated my hand mixer (which was a wedding gift, so I’ve had it a long time, but it was pedestrian plastic and purely utilitarian, although it had a ton of attachments, unlike what my mom offered me, but then again I only ever use the beaters) to goodwill without another thought.
Today I pulled it out and used it for the first time. It was gorgeous and cool and the banana bread I made with it is utterly delicious.
I know full well that life is not about things. But this particular thing? This mixer with all this history handed to me by my mom? Pretty cool right now.
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