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On Buying Kitchen Aids

I’m not actually buying a KitchenAid.

Kitchen aid
But if I was I would go the floral-on-orange route. HOLLAH.

One time, when my parents were newly married, my dad bought something very expensive without talking it over with my mom, and then things got heated I think, and my dad felt guilty, and he bought my mom this really fancy gadget that has a blender and a mixer and I hear it can even grind airplane parts although I have no real understanding of why that is important. But, the airplane parts thing always makes it into the story anyway.

All of this to say: I don’t need a fancy mixer. My mom has one. I live with my fam. I can just use the airplane-parts-grinder one should need arise.


I started out with KitchenAids, and this is more of a girl-talk post anyway, so, probably I lost all of the guys in the title alone. It’s cool.


(Someone make popcorn).

This just to open that real talk discussion that is kind of about KitchenAids and is really about something else, something deeper.

One of my friends is a practiced baker. She makes pies and cakes and cookies and everything. She’s married now, but she was single for many, many more years than she has been married. And, she was baking long before she was a wife.

And, when she was single, she decided that she wanted a KitchenAid. You know, to bake stuff. And people were like, “Wait, why are you doing that, you’re not married.”

Because KitchenAids, you see, are the kind of thing that are given at wedding showers. And they’re bulky and they tie you down. The are representative of a new stage of your life: the wedding, the marriage, the happily-ever-after. That’s why single women don’t buy fancy mixers for themselves.

But, she wasn’t married. And she wouldn’t get married for a few years. And it’s not like anyone knows the timeline anyway.

KA 2
Hello, beautiful.

Yesterday one of my friends texted me. It was a text that was full of honesty and bravery. Bravery because it said things that most women aren’t really supposed to talk about which is, “Hey, I was offered an opportunity that sounds cool, and I think it might be a good fit, but I actually do want to be a mom and have babies, and I’m not sure if this will help me with that end.”

It’s a real struggle.

I know those questions. I know them because my sister has said them to me. My girlfriends have said it to me. I’ve asked myself, as I’ve started working thanks to a five-year grant. I love my job. I think it’s a great fit. Only, in five years (and I count this mentally, secretly, quietly), I would still be able to have a family, right? Maybe?

I sure as heck don’t have a real clue about my personal timeline.

And the KitchenAid is an analogy for: how do you rightly find the balance between the place you would cross-your-fingers to be one day and the place you are now? And no one even knows if you’ll ever make it to a wedding shower, you know? There happen to be zero guarantees.

And the KitchenAid is kind of a code word, here. Because it’s a couple hundred dollars to buy one of those suckers and, really, if you’re a working woman, what’s a couple hundo, right? It’s nothing. (Well, it’s a trip to Europe, but I digress).

But there are more expensive and time-consuming things than fancy mixers. Things like pricey degrees. And jobs that take years of investment. And old houses that require renovation. And when you’re single, there is this funky balance of, “Well, I’d like to be married…but I’m not…so now what?”

I don’t know that personally answer this well. But I know what I wish I lived like. To that I would say: buy the dang KitchenAid. Your life doesn’t start because you stood on an altar and scored a ring. Nope. Your life started a long, long time ago, and it’s happening right now and all around you.

Feel free, single woman, with your single-freedom, to invest in yourself and your skills and your community. Invest in things that you love, especially when that love spills into the lives of others. Be wise, for sure (because wisdom is a gift from God), but, don’t let fear stop you from doing things that might be a little scary but are probably full of goodness and life and the provision of a caring God. Take the God-given gifts that you have been given, and live with them boldly. And lovingly. And deliciously.

Like with baked goods and stuff. Especially pies. Especially gluten-free. Especially for Nell.

And then turn around and tell me to listen to myself. Because heaven knows I kind of just wrote this for myself.

This one in the colors of Poland? Be still, my beating heart.

4 thoughts on “On Buying Kitchen Aids

  1. I don’t know if you remember, but your brother bought me a KitchenAid before we got married so I wouldn’t feel pressure to marry him. Hahaha. Also, can we paint my kitchen aid with pretty flowers?

      Actually, I almost put this in here, but brevity isn’t my gift. But I wanted to try, so I left that story out. πŸ˜‰ πŸ˜‰

  2. My wife had all sorts of individual passions when I met her, and she’s come up with new ones since then – dancing, baking, comic books, what-have-you. Of course we don’t share all the same interests, or have the same intensity of interest, and I sometimes feel bad about not better supporting her in her pursuits. Still, her passions are what attracted me to her in the first place. And if she had delayed pursuing them until we got married, or until I ratified them somehow, then it would have been a LOT of pressure on me, besides which I think there would have been less of a “her” there to admire and be attracted to. (If any of that makes sense.)

    All of which is to say, buy the dang KitchenAid! You’ll be happier and more fulfilled yourself, and you’ll bring that to the people in your life.

    And yes, my wife had a KitchenAid long before I met her. πŸ˜‰

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