ode to a kitchen aid

The warning signs have barraged my senses for months.

A reluctant grumble of the once reliable motor,

the shaky shimmy of once immovable nuts & bolts,

a complete standstill at speed notch 6.

But I pretended it didn't matter.

Because you're only a piece of metal, after all. 

Never mind that you joined my world at the same time as my firstborn.

Never mind that you helped me make his first cake

- my first cake -

or that you've partnered with me in hundreds since. 

Birthdays, Weddings, Babies, Tuesdays, Just Because.

We had a brilliant weekend one month ago. 

Between Jim's birthday and one huge order we managed thirteen recipes of cake...

eight batches of buttercream...

one cream cheese filling...

two cups of cream whipped. 

Epic. 

But two weeks ago you beat your final round

as we were making cake for a lifelong friend

(of course that makes me smile).

Her firstborn just became an Eagle Scout. 

A milestone moment. 

You held on through the four recipes of chocolate fudge cake

but gave out on our second batch of buttercream.

Jim rushed in to recuscitate.

But I knew that it was useless.

Your work was done. 

I surprised myself with a barrage of tears...then thirty minutes of full sobs.

Silly. 

Because you're only a piece of metal.

After all.

But to me - in that moment

you were also a rush of memories, moments, milestones...

significant slices of my life.

Because my love language is my food.

And you have been my best & longest companion in all I've given.

My first Kitchen Aid.

Comments

[Kelly]

I never thought I would feel emotional about the demise of someone else's small appliance, but you've managed to do it to me. I hope there's a shiny new one in your near future!

[Megan]

You're right, I did almost cry!

[Tiffany]

I guess memorial services can be times of joy as well as sadness. It's great to remember all of the happy times you've been through together and to smile through your tears. Thanks for the sweet post. :)

(And is it okay that it made me laugh?)

[Shanon]

That had so much emotion!!! I'm sorry for your loss.

[Lucy]

I've never owned a KitchenAid or Bosch or any sort of mixer thingee but my heart breaks for your loss. I hope you went out and splurged on the nicest, fanciest, most powerful mixer ever because you, of any person I have ever known, deserve one.

[Cassy]

You are too cute Amy. I feel your pain (slightly-mine was only a mixer but with the same sentiment). Your blog is a very fun read, I must say.

[Jill S.]

This was a loving tribute indeed.