Kitchen Aide

The past few days our house has been swarmed by a friendly landscaping crew. Ann's been helping, but I've been inside watching the dog (who wants nothing more than to be with the crew) and baking for the intermittent breaks the crew takes. Today's culinary tasks include baking bread, molasses cookies, and preparing a biscuit crust for a chicken pie recipe.

This is the last day of our spring vacation though we still have two days of the weekend to prepare ourselves for the trenches on Monday. I haven't done a stitch of school work, but there's a pile waiting for me in my backpack as well as lessons to plan.

I keep putting it off.

I keep baking.

I haven't made bread in quite a few months, but Ann made a special request last night so I got up fairly early and started the process. Now the bread is in the oven baking and creating that satisfactory aroma around the house. Intermingled with the smell of the molasses cookies that are now cooling on rack by the oven, the house feels warm and cozy on this blustery, rainy day.

Years ago, when I lived with my ex (Karen), I rarely baked. I rarely did any kind of cooking at all. She was the "queen" of the kitchen and even when I tried, she rarely let me in to butter a piece of bread let alone whip up something more elaborate.

I'm not complaining. She was (and probably still is) a good cook, but I never realized until I left the relationship how much I love to be in the kitchen working through a recipe. I was thinking about Karen today and her need for control when it came to the kitchen while I kneaded the large mass of bread dough on the counter. While the bread was rising, I mixed together the cookie dough. Ann came in right when the first batch of cookies laid to rest in the oven and she smiled saying, "Umm, it smells so good in hear. You should make bread every weekend!"

"I will if we buy a Kitchen Aide," I smiled back.

"Deal!" She's kind of a push over about these things.

The Kitchen Aide made me think of Karen again. She owned one though she did not pay for it. She didn't pay for a lot of things. My salary was three times as much as hers and since we combined our incomes, I now see how much of my money went into purchases "we" made together. For instance, we bought a small piece of property behind us to keep it from being developed. We built a better fence around the garden and had a shelter built for the llamas. We paid a man to do stone work in the garden and we re-roofed the barn with new gutters and all.

But Karen also purchased other things, not with my money, but as "gifts" from her friend Bud. Bud was in his mid-70's when I left Karen. She had known Bud and his wife, Eva, for 25 years. Eva died after a painful battle with leukemia and shortly after her death, Bud "courted" Karen. He'd drive over in his big pickup truck, dressed in a clean, starched white shirt, pressed jeans, polished shoes, and smelling of very old cologne.

Karen claimed that she told him about "us" but it never seemed to have sunk in. Bud was undeterred and this played to Karen's advantage. A wealthy man, Bud bought Karen all sorts of things -- a brand new car, a new washer/dryer set, the new roof on the house, a fancy new computer, and yes, the high-powered, high-performance Kitchen-Aide. He paid for all of it with cash, helping Karen avoid any monthly payments.

I benefited as well. I shouldn't complain, but looking back on it now makes me realize how much Karen received without really having to work for it. So, when I heard myself "bargain" for a Kitchen Aide I cringed a bit.

Later, Ann came in to get some lunch and offer the crew some cookies and I said, "You don't really have to buy me a Kitchen Aide. The hand mixer works well for the cookies and kneading bread is therapeutic."

"What made you change your mind?" she asked.

"I didn't want to be like Karen." Ann got it. She'd heard all about Karen and felt the effects when Karen and I tried to negotiate a fair financial settlement (which really didn't end up fair at all, but that's a whole other story).

"God, you're nothing like that," Ann guffawed.

"I just don't want you to think that I see you like a sugar-momma like she treated Bud."

"Never!"

The thing with Ann is that she always takes what you say at face value. That's a good thing most of the time, but at this moment it meant that she believed me when I said she didn't have to buy the Kitchen Aide.

"So, if I'm not treating you like Karen treated Bud do I still get the Kitchen Aide?"

Sheepish smile.

The bread is almost done and there's still a pie crust to make. My life in the kitchen during this vacation is not yet over.