He was a trusted friend for over 10 years.
Worked furiously to help me make mini's first birthday cake when we had no idea how to bake without eggs. Helped us try countless cookie and recipes, letting us know which worked best. Sat patiently while we worked on batches of frosting upon frosting, not caring that he was sticky and covered in cocoa powder everywhere.
He helped us with baby showers for friends and coworkers. Helped mini eat healthy food when we discovered pumpkin protein bread, zucchini bread, and spinach muffins. He brought warmth, comfort, tradition to every holiday, helping us with everything from hamentaschen to honey cake. He was our secret weapon for the perfect apple pies at Thanksgiving, and homemade whipped cream.
It was because of him that oatmeal chocolate chip cookies for the doormen on Christmas and entertained children on playdates brilliantly for short bursts of time.
In short, he was always there when we needed him.
And then, suddenly......he was gone. Just. Like. That.
First came the smell. That awful, chemical smell. Then, the sound, as if he were in constant pain. And then, in the middle of one last batch of hamentaschen, he slowed down, whimpered, and was out for the count.
And that's the story of how our hand mixer died.
Yes, we can get a new one for $20, and probably should have at least 5 years ago, but it will never be the same. Goodbye, dear friend. Please take good care of our trusty toaster oven, who is on life support and will inevitably join you soon.
Bakers will understand.