blender fragments

Our friends Tamsin and Nick invited us to Sunday dinner. We were to bring dessert.

I stewed over what to bring for days.... a chocolate raspberry layer cake? a cinnamon braid? homemade donuts? something I've never made before? You see, Tamsin is a good cook (and, I learned at dinner, so is Nick) and so dessert had to compliment the quality of the meal.

Yes, I do tend to invent undue pressure for myself. But who wants a boring ol' pressure-free life?

So there I was. Sunday afternoon. It was three hours to chow time and 1. I was determined not to be late and 2. I still hadn't decided what we would be bringing for dessert.

Finally, after trying to imagine something ooh-ah magnificent that I could whip up and that would compliment dinner, our host and hostess, and all of our fondness for sweets - I decided AH THE HECK WITH IT! and made something that DID NOT go together at all, and in fact, was exactly NOT complimentary to ANYTHING.

I decided we would be bringing chocolate chip pumpkin bread and fruit smoothies. Bill and I ADORE smoothies. They have become a staple in our diet. Did you know you can make a killer smoothie with no sugar? I know, RIGHT?

So I baked me some pun'kin bread and gathered the smoothie necessities.

I was SO proud! We were on time. The diaper bag was packed, the highchair was clean and compacted, we were all socked and shoed, and I had the food all ready to go.

I picked up the bag that held the blender (I knew the Norths probably had a blender at their house - but one mustn't presume! I was supplying dessert, and I meant to SUPPLY it!) - which I had doubled up for extra baggy thickness, thank you very much! - and still. STILL! My beautiful, trusty, long-time-friend of a blender somehow SLIPPED from the bag, toppled over the edge of the counter - I breathed a small "no!" - and CRASH.

Blender fragments.


Bill came running down the hall - a crash like that meant business - and skidded to a halt where the carpet meets the tile. I just looked at him with my mouth hanging open. "oooooh..." he said. Glass everywhere. I mean EVERYWHERE. Wyatt came toddling down the hall after him. He yanked Wyatt up into his arms and said, "the kitchen is not for babies right now, bud."

Yeah. Definitely not.


And then it donned on us. At the same time. Broken glass shards of sizes huge to minuscule all over one of the most trafficked room in the house is one thing.

No more smoothies is something else!

Our random peals of laughter over the situation died dead. Waitasecond. This wasn't just one of those "ah, human folly!" moments where you have to laugh at the ridiculousness of yourself. This wasn't even just too bad. This was DEVASTATING!

Witness no more smoothie face:


Soon after Bill and I came to grips with the full implications of my accident, Bill said: "well, you know we have to get another blender."

Ah, sweet, WONDERFUL husband! Great Depression be darned!

"Yeah," I said. "That one was pretty much on its way out, anyway." Which was technically true. Did I mention we made a lot of smoothies?

"Right," said Bill. "And we need a new RED one." And that, folks, he added just for me.

Farewell, blender fragments. You served us well before you ended at my clumsy hand. And to the new blender that will soon be ours: get ready, we are coming! We hope you like fruit!

PS: Tamsin and Nick did have a blender. The smoothies were delicious.