The doorbell rang this afternoon.
There were so many and so different. Each was a work of art. If his wife isn’t a professional baker, she certainly could be. Richard and I later cut a few in half so we both could explore among the variations.
My astonishment and stunned delight made their day while they were totally making mine. I had been sick and they had decided to do something about it to help me feel better.
Hours later, I suddenly wondered if their old KitchenAid still worked?
Not that the one has anything to do with the other, but–I’d long forgotten that about twenty years ago, I bought a new beater for my mixer at an outlet store, only to find it didn’t fit my machine. A rookie mistake, but not worth the two-hour round trip to return it. Maybe the next time I go to Gilroy?
I never did. It sat in its little white box in my house taking up space till not long after they moved in half a dozen years later.
Monica, barely knowing anyone yet, offered a baking demo at church. She was good!
And my beater that fit her Kitchenaid perfectly found where it had been waiting to go. A good baker could always use extras for making multiple batches in a row.