Monday, January 16, 2006

Monday Memories

Monday Memories: Did I ever tell you The Beater Story?

I was trying to remember a really good memory for my first ever Monday Memories post - it took a while, but I think I've got one:

I must have been 12. It was a hot summer day. My grandparents from Illinois were coming out for a visit. It would be the last time we'd see them in a couple of years because we were moving to Saudi Arabia.

Mom was cooking and baking up a storm. She liked to get all the heavy duty cooking done ahead so she could enjoy her time with her guests. We were making fudge swirl brownies with cream cheese. I asked if I could help. Those of you who know me, know that I am totally inept in the kitchen. I was more than inept at the age of 12.

My mother was either not thinking straight or having a weak moment. She said I could help cream together the cream cheese and some eggs or something. Just know that whatever it was was very gooey. She handed me the mixer... In the old days, we didn't have a "Kitchen Aid" stand mixer, we had an electric hand mixer.

I had long hair... really long hair... down to my butt long hair. I had long hair because that's what my daddy liked on his girls. He didn't have too many weird rules, but long hair was one of them. I wore it in two ponytails that day. I was so happy to be helping. I was thinking that maybe I'd actually learn how to cook alongside my mom the way she learned alongside my Gram. Then it happened...

The next thing I knew, the beater was crawling up my ponytail and banging me on the head. I was in shock - what just happened?? I tried desperately to get it out. I yanked. It beat me some more. I pulled - it crawled back up. I screamed!! My mother yanked the plug out of the wall, took one good look at me and then said "Oh - wait! Don't move!" She was snickering!! I had a moment of need here and she was holding back a laugh!! She ran and got the neighbors and a camera!! When she came back, she was howling with laughter... There I was, exposed to the world with my hair in the beater... Did she try to get the beaters out, NO! She took my picture!! (I looked for it this morning, but I can't find it - I'll post it when I do!)

And you wonder why I can't/don't cook!!

(How did they get the beast out of my hair? - they didn't cut it. Dad would have had a stroke! Dad ejected the beaters from the machine and then spent the next hour meticulously unwinding each and every hair. It took 3 washings to get the goo out.)


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