Of all of the gadgets I’ve lately desired
A Kitchenaid Stand Mixer was highest aspired
For years I had managed with whisk and greased elbow
My dreams of speed-baking resigned to a “hell no.”
And so ever the realist, I eagerly pined
For a wedding-day registry that I had designed
For otherwise my mixer was a fanciful dalliance,
My dough-making hopes stalled by bank account balance.
But one fateful morning, my friend texted a dispatch
“Stoop sale! Stand mixer! I think it’s a clear match!”
So I hustled on down to her block in the East
And found, sure enough, that my quest had now ceased!
For alongside the books and the knicks knacks displayed
Lay a dusty stand mixer, faded, but staid.
With quavering voice, I meekly asked for the price
Assuming my hopes would be crushed in a vice
But the seller was eager to offload all her wares,
And for just half a Benny, thus was answered my prayers.
With my new prize in tow I trekked to friends’, then to home
(The weight of this purchase was physically shown —
This old-fashioned mixer, at least 10 years accrued
Left its mark on my heart, and my arms black and blued)
I christened her Geraldine, in a nod to the homemaking
I envisioned our duo to be soon undertaking
And surname Skullcrusher to acknowledge her heft
My mixer could kick ass and take names for the WWF.
In the year since that day I’ve made countless confections
Ms. Skullcrusher only gathering more of my affections
I can’t even conceive how I managed before
I dragged that big ass stand mixer inside of my door.
She may be a used model with a decades-old labeling
But I’m indebted to GS for the sugar-addiction enabling.
Though she lives in the hall closet when not whipping cream,
I’ll always think of owning Gerry as achieving a dream.
The inspiration for my poor attempts at poetry — Ms. Skullcrusher herself.