Mixing It Up

Since the early days of my marriage, I have viewed standing mixers (known in my day as Mixmasters, but now everyone has a Kitchenaid) as the ultimate symbol of domestic oppression.  They ranked right down there with mop buckets and ironing boards.  For years I have used my own two hands, occasionally augmented by an electric hand mixer, to do all the work. I scoffed at my mother-in-law and ultimately at my daughters for allowing this subjugation to be perpetrated upon them.  My mother, it must be noted, encouraged this belief.  She has never owned and will never own a mixer -- but then again she insists on brewing her coffee in an old percolator and making toast under the broiler.  *Lightbulb Moment* -- maybe Mom was not such a good role model in this respect. 

Lately, my hands have struggled to accomplish the heavy lifting of serious baking.  I have seen what my daughters can do with their Kitchenaids and how owning a mixer has somehow not transformed them into domestic slaves...  and I capitulate.  I still am unsure how using a mixer would be effective when baking enough bread to feed 7 people for a week.  But for pie crusts and cookie doughs and many other mixing duties, I can see how it might be nice to own one.  How I wish I had experienced this epiphany while I still had an income.  The Buttercup Yellow Kitchenaid that my heart now covets costs more than I spent last year on expensive shoes.  Does anyone want to trade a Buttercup Yellow Kitchenaid for a few of pair of high quality shoes?