The Curse of the KitchenAid Stand Mixer

Yesterday I got an email from Williams-Sonoma announcing a special edition KitchenAid 90^th Anniversary Stand Mixer.  Probably a lot of people got this email.  Safe to say tens of thousands. I’m guessing I’m the only one it made cry.

Confession: I have a hang up about KitchenAid stand mixers.  In my opinion, the only acceptable manner in which to acquire a KitchenAid stand mixer is this: meet a guy, fall in love, get engaged, register for a KitchenAid stand mixer.  One day, when an enormous box arrives in the mail, open it to find another box inside, only this one’s gift wrapped!  Pause to read the card and exclaim over the wonderful person who was generous enough to get you this, the Holy Grail of wedding presents.  Rip off the pretty paper and take out the mixer and put it, in all it’s bright red shiny glory, on the kitchen counter and make bread.  Or cake.  Or whatever they do.  Frankly, I’m not really sure. 

I told you I had a hang up.

What should I do to get over it?  I should buy a fricking KitchenAid mixer.  Just go to Williams-Sonoma, whip out the debit card, and get it over with.  (They’re very nice at the Sherman Oaks Mall, they’ll bring everything right out to your car.)  But have I done that?  I have not.  I’m incapable.  Every time I’m at Williams-Sonoma, which is usually at least once a month, I circle the mixers like-- I was going to go for a clever simile, but the fact is I circle them like a crazy person.  Not clever, but true, so true.  (And let me be clear, to all of my friends who are reading this:  Please do not try to be kind and buy me a KitchenAid mixer.  If you do, first I will cry, then I will return it.  But you’re sweet to think of it.) 

I almost bought one yesterday, when the email popped up on my phone in the middle of a very long meeting.  Sitting there, trying to focus, I instead thought to myself, “Just do it.  Buy the stupid mixer.  If you can’t figure it out on your phone, email AC and ask him to order it online.  Get it over with.” (AC is my assistant.  AC, this is not my subtle way of asking you to order the mixer online.  Do not order the mixer.) 

Hard as I try, I can’t pull the mixer trigger.  Why? 

Though it’s probably obvious, it’s still difficult to admit.  But here it is: as soon as I buy that mixer I will have given up my last little bit of hope that one day I’ll meet a guy and fall in love and get engaged and register for a KitchenAid stand mixer that will arrive in an enormous box in the mail all gift wrapped in pretty paper. 

And I think I need to let that go.  It’s not a helpful brand of hope.  It’s not audacious. It’s holding on to an ideal that I am unlikely to achieve.  And until I release it I can’t fully move forward. 

Crap.  When I started this post, I actually didn’t expect to end up here.  But here I am. 

So… okay, then. 

AC, please order the KitchenAid stand mixer.  Red.  90^th Anniversary Edition.  Thanks. And no rush on delivery.

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Do you have any objects in your life that take on a meaning of their own?  Are you haunted by a particular possession?  Or by something you want that you can't/won't'/shouldn't get for some reason?