Don't leave me this way

This is a tribute to my mom's Hamilton Beach electric hand mixer,with a black handle and white body. It died today. 1968-2005. She wanted to throw it out but I wouldn't let her. It was my pal. I have so many memories that were made with this kitchen aid. Many a cookie, bread, or dessert, were baked mostly by mom with me in the background as a observer and helper. Of course the best part of the process was when my brother and I were each given a spoon/beater from the mixer to eat the batter from. I was so pleased that we were able to find a replacement. But I kept the old one and am putting on a shelf as soon as I get the shelf. Also she mentioned that Aunt Imogene had borrowed it and returned it damaged with the crack in the back. She later claimed it was given to that way. Weasel breeds weasel. Oh yeah. We are family.

On the other hand the psycho toaster is going back tonight. I put in a piece of bread to test it. There was a bad smell that came from it when it was turned on. It wasn't like a dead animal smell but it was funky enough for me. Then the toast was regular on one side and burnt on the other. If I wanted that kind of service, I would have gone to Aunt Imogene's restaurant back in the day.

Adventures in the elderhostel are a bit fraying on my nerves. I reminded myself that it was Fred's responsibility to bring the gravy and he just forgot. It's not like him to blow bringing his special side dish. I owe Minnie a apology. Yes, I know that it's shocking to be coming from me. She said that Honeybaked didn't give her gravy. Of course not, Fred gave his word that he was making his.

Then this whole quest about getting replacement appliances and it HAD to get done today. I just about died while Ethel and I roamed around the department store. I felt nauseous and yucky. That is very unlike me. I do have the shopping gene and I can giftwrap too.