Waxing Crescent Moon – Photo: L. Weikel

Wow, was that snowfall dense. We actually ended up getting only about 8” of accumulation, but I venture to guess it would’ve risen to much greater heights had it been the light fluffy stuff. I sure hope the 44” they got along the southern tier of New York wasn’t as thick and heavy as ours was. I shudder to think how I would feel after shoveling that. Oh who am I kidding? I wouldn’t be shoveling if that were the case. Screw it; I’d wait for a thaw.

That said, Karl probably wouldn’t ‘wait for a thaw.’ Which means I wouldn’t either. Why? Because I’m always striving to be his partner. To pitch in and do things together. No, I may not have the upper body strength he does. But I would do my best to hold my own and do what I could.

Sometimes I get tired of always feeling like I have to keep up or do my part. But I guess that keeps me young. Or does that make me immature? Good question. Big difference.

Frustration

This week has been consistent in its inconsistency and unexpected challenges. (And I struggled there for a moment to recall just what day of the week it is. I swear, it feels like we’ve lived a month since Monday.)

A long time ago, in what feels like another lifetime, I was determined to get some serious baking done during the forecasted nor’easter. Kiffels were on the agenda, as were both some peanut butter cookies and oatmeal cookies just to round things out. Chocolate chippers with walnuts were clamoring for creation, but I was realistic enough within myself to know I wasn’t even going to entertain their plea – at least not in the short term. No; if I got the kiffel dough started (and in the refrigerator) and perhaps those other two kinds of cookies baked, I’d be happy.

I decided to start with baking a batch of peanut butter cookies. I knew I’d have to refrigerate the kiffel dough for eight hours, so my thinking was that it would be easier to exercise patience if there were other fresh baked goodies with which to indulge our palettes.

Sound reasoning. But I wasn’t expecting my hand held mixer to crap out on me. And it wasn’t a typical ‘burn out the motor’ type of thing, which I’m pretty sure I did last year. No. This time, I’d be in the midst of creaming the butter and sugar, or slowly adding the dry ingredients, and the beaters would automatically eject into the batter.

WHAT?

The first time it happened, I assumed I’d accidentally pressed on the speed adjustment dial and ejected the beaters. So I was ever so careful not to do that again. Yeah. Turns out that wasn’t the case. No, the beaters just decided they weren’t going to do any heavy lifting anymore. As soon as the batter became even slightly thick, they jumped ship in unison. The language this elicited from me would’ve done a sailor proud.

Foiled

So my kiffels are yet to be baked. Hell, the dough hasn’t even made it to the fridge yet (because it doesn’t exist – yet). Instead, after helping out with shoveling, I went on a quest for a mixer.

What a fool’s errand. And in the middle of a pandemic.  Yet I stayed away from people. I wore my mask. And I drenched my hands with sanitizer after each fruitless effort.

See, the thing is, mixers aren’t made the way they used to be. Apparently they’re only designed to last a year or two, which absolutely incenses me. Planned obsolescence is…well, a whole other topic’s worth of rant.

I did end up scoring a basic mixer that I hope will last longer than four birthday cakes, and a single Christmas’s worth of baked goods. I’m not holding out a lot of hope. But at least I should be back on track tomorrow.

* I did succeed in mixing the peanut butter cookie batter by hand. Not something I wanted to repeat. But at least they’re yummy and providing sustenance – not only for the quest but also for the shoveling. I know I’m going to pay for that tomorrow.

Peanut Butter Cookies – Photo: L. Weikel

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