Sig’s mother is down-sizing in preparation for living in a smaller place. Needless to say there are lots of ISSUES cropping up not the least of which is looking at everything and singing –will you go or will you stay?
Kitchen stuff is a prime target. Her new place doesn’t have much of a kitchen and truth be known she has really gotten out of the cooking business. But of course, that doesn’t really count when parting with things that spark memories of good food and good times.
I come home tonight with her KitchenAid and an aluminum cookie press with about 30 discs to make spritz cookies for the holidays and a lamp shade I claim I can recover.
I am really excited about the mixer; over the years I’ve toyed with buying one but a lack of counter space usually trumps the feeling. But when someone asks me if I want hers, I don’t hesitate.
It is squatting on the kitchen table right now with its arms holding tightly onto its stainless steel bowl. It may be going through a little shock. It’s not a new model. I’d say it is 25 or 30 years old and change might be difficult. Its mind is probably racing, trying to remember all its old paces — bread dough, mashed potatoes, whipped cream …
I turn off the light to give it some me time. I think it is gonna love being back in the game and bread dough? Not on your life.