A Bunch of Chicks

Remember the chicken that Malia made in her sewing camp? Remember that I said she wanted to make chickens for pretty much everyone she knows? Well, she had this grand plan to sew chickens for everyone who would be attending our girls’ trip to Cedar City. She spent the week before gathering info about favorite colors and crafted a chicken for each of her aunts and cousins who would be attending. She was going to give everyone their chickens when we arrived in Cedar City and the plan was to have at least one chicken in every picture we took on our trip. It was going to be so much fun. And then…Covid happened. She had finished all the chickens by the time we found out we couldn’t go and that was one of the things she was upset about. She had worked so hard, had spent so much time, and now her wonderful plans were spoiled. She still planned to gift her flock, but she felt like it wouldn’t be special anymore. I assured her that it would be. When you put thought, time, and effort into creating something wonderful for the people you love, it is always special. Nonetheless, it was one of her great disappointments.

Today we had lunch at my parents’ house, and we knew that Rachael and her girls would be there, so Malia carefully packed her chickens into a backpack so she could distribute them to those in attendance. When we arrived, we were surprised to see that both Patti and Esther were there too. Yay! The only one who was not present was Sarah, but since she lives in Idaho, that was not at all unexpected. Malia gave out her hens and everyone loved them. While we didn’t get the fun trip part, they were still a special gift that she had created for each of them. 

One random tidbit about all these chickens is that the only planned road trip participant who doesn’t have one is me. I guess that tells you where I fall in Malia’s list of important people. But I’m not offended. Honestly! I think it’s funny. 😂 And I LOVE that she loves her family!

Little Things

Our ward hosts a neighborhood block party every summer on the 24th of July. Last year I was serving in the relief society presidency which meant I was on the set up and serving crew. Rather than let everyone grab their own food, we acknowledged the changes Covid has brought into the world and gloved up to serve the food. We wrangled our families into service so we would have enough hands and Nathan was happy to help. I ended up serving hamburgers and hot dogs and Nathan was right beside me adding condiments as requested. 

One of the little girls who lives next door to us came through the line with a spectacular scowl on her face. I joked with her in an attempt to get her to smile, however, my efforts were in vain. I don’t remember if it was my idea or Nathan’s, but when her plate came his way, he used ketchup to draw a smiley face on her hamburger. That didn’t help either, but it began a long series of food that was happy to see everyone. It made me laugh and made many others smile. 

Last night was this year’s block party and since I have been released from my RS calling, I was back to being a guest at the BBQ. Our bishop was on condiment duty this time around and while everyone else got a normal swirl or splash of ketchup on their hamburgers, I got a smiley face. I was surprised that he had remembered last year’s escapades and it made me smile. 

Not only did my food art remind me of Nathan and his constant desire to make those around him happy, but it also reminded me that sometimes the little things are the big things. A text, a phone call, an honest compliment, a sincere inquiry about someone’s wellbeing. Sometimes these tiny gestures make all the difference. Ministering to others doesn’t have to be complicated. Often, we over think things, making things harder than they need to be, at least I know I do. That is why a part of my personal equation for happiness is to simplify. 

For years the sister who was assigned to minister to me never called, never came by, never checked in with me other than our interactions that came because we are next door neighbors and Malia and her kids are friends. But every week when she did her yard work, she would slip over with her edger and trim back the edges on our lawn. It was not life changing, but I knew she was thinking about me and taking the time to serve in her own quiet way. She knew I was ok and that I didn’t need her to come over and share a message with me, but she found a meaningful way to serve. It was a little thing. But like I said, sometimes the little things are the big things. And sometimes all it takes is a simple smile in ketchup to make someone’s day.

International Eats-Japan

I cheated a little bit. Our International Eats protocol was put in place so that we can try some new foods. But I opted to make a dish that most of us have eaten before. Due to my Chinese heritage and Kevin’s missionary service in Japan, we eat a lot of Asian foods around here. As such, I didn’t really feel like we needed to include these countries in our experimentations. However, I also have two food allergy kids that 1) don’t get to experience all the foods we eat in restaurants and 2) are the younger half of my children and weren’t around for many of the experiments and activities I sponsored when Daniel and Nathan were small. So I decided to cheat a little.

Way back in the early years of our marriage, Kevin and I were living the “Early American Poverty” lifestyle. That meant a night on the town consisted of some very careful grocery shopping and a movie at home with the occasional splurge by eating at Wendy’s. Only on our anniversary did we feel like the occasion warranted a bigger investment in a fancier restaurant. One of our favorites back then was the Kyoto, a local Japanese restaurant that was much more authentic and far tastier than some others. One of my favorite dishes to order when we went was sukiyaki, a Japanese hot pot style dish that had noodles, beef, tofu, and veggies all nestled in a flavorful broth. Since we couldn’t afford to eat out like that very often, I searched the internet and found a recipe to recreate sukiyaki at home. But even making it at home was a splurge, so it was a once in a long while kind of a dinner. 

Our finances are not anywhere near as tight as they were back then, but sukiyaki is a meal I haven’t even thought about for a long time. While I was exploring recipes for this summer’s grand food experimentation, I happened to come across a sukiyaki recipe and realized that neither Matthew nor Malia has ever eaten it. It only took me about two seconds to decide that a little cheating was in order. And honestly, my motivation was not entirely selfless. This stuff is good. So, so good. 

When the kids asked what we were having for dinner, I described it as a cross between broccoli beef and chicken long rice with some other stuff thrown in. They seemed to think that was ok, but Malia took a look at the fixings as I was prepping food and looked highly skeptical. Things improved somewhat when it came time to dish her dinner and she discovered there were a variety of things she knows she likes-rice, beef, long rice (which are mung bean noodles). That, and the fact that it smelled really good, gave her hope.

Kevin and I were both happy to revisit and old favorite. Matthew liked it as well, though he picked around the tofu and the cabbage. Malia picked around the mushrooms, tofu, and cabbage, as I knew she would, but really liked the other parts. I think if I left out some of the interesting bits it would have been an all-out winner with the kids, but Kev and I like the interesting parts so I left them in knowing the kids would opt not to sample those portions. I do have to admit that Kevin was the only one who added a raw egg to the meal the way the Japanese traditionally eat sukiyaki. I just can’t make myself eat raw eggs. Far to slimy. (Full body shudder)

The only thing I would do differently next time is marinate the beef and possibly the tofu for a bit before cooking the dish. The broth was enormously flavorful, but the beef and tofu didn’t have enough cook time to really absorb the lovely flavor. Darn. I guess that means I have to make it again. 😜

Sukiyaki Rating: 3 ½ forks 

Covid Capitulates

While the past two weeks have most definitely not gone according to plan, we can still see the blessings we have received during that time. Matthew only ran a fever for about twenty-four hours and had a sore throat and slight congestion for two days. That was it. The biggest issue he had was how to combat the boredom during his isolation period. Kevin, Malia and I all stayed healthy and tested negative after our allotted number of days had passed. Kevin helped me see some of the mental consequences of the “scare campaign” that the government and the media brought into our lives during the pandemic as well as some underlying reasons for my tendency to be a germaphobe. (And no, I have not always been like this but didn’t know when or how it may have developed until Kev shared his perspective on some past life experiences.) We have had some good conversations about life, the gospel, and the world we live in during this time of emotional upheaval and limited outings. And once again, we are reminded what a great blessing it is to be able to interact with friends, ward members, and family. Covid may have changed the world and the emotional ramifications of the pandemic will be something some of us deal with all our lives (seriously, I think Malia might have some PTSD and I've picked up some habits I suspect will never go away), but thankfully this round of our battle with the C-word was short lived and we came out on top.

The Best Laid Plans aka. Covid: The Plague that Keeps on Giving

Sometimes life doesn’t turn out the way you planned. We all know that. And sometimes disappointment follows in the wake when plans are upended. We’ve all had a good dose of that in the past two and a half years, but over the past months, I’ve begun feeling a bit of normalcy return to my life. I felt like I could make plans and actually expect them to happen. Yes, I’m still cleaning stuff like crazy, and I don’t expect that to go away any time soon if at all, but overall, our lives have taken on a more normal routine. 

Having said that, once again the newest curse word I know, Covid, has reared its ugly head. Matthew went to bed with a headache on Monday night. On Tuesday he woke feeling much too warm. Headache plus fever in the old world would have meant Matthew stayed home for a few days until he felt better and the rest of us got on with our lives in the meantime. In the new world, it means three home Covid tests, all of which came back positive, many tears, some panic, a mad dash to the nearest county location to double (or quadruple) check, and then a need to actually deal with the reality that Matthew has Covid.

Matthew feels terrible, physically of course, but also emotionally. He is guilt ridden that he’s the one who brought it into our home. For two and a half years we’ve managed to avoid getting sick and now, as the world seems to be spinning in its old, happy way, we have drawn the short straw. But there’s no way he could have known and nothing he could have done to avoid this. He hasn’t knowingly been in contact with anyone who is sick. No of us have. We can speculate about where it came from, but there’s no way to know and no one to blame. We’ve tried to assure him of this, and I think his mind is quieter than it was last night, but I suspect there is still some emotional baggage. 

Having said that, one of the reasons he feels so terrible is that Malia and I were supposed to go to Cedar City with my sisters and three of my nieces for a girls’ only trip to the Utah Shakespearean Festival. We’ve been planning for months, and we were both super excited to go. But with someone in our household sick with Covid, our plans have been cancelled. The others are still going, but Malia and I will be hunkering down at home, waiting out our quarantine and hoping the rest of us don’t get sick. Kevin and I can still go to the store and all that as long as we are masked and don’t develop any symptoms because we are up to date on our vaccinations. However, that pesky sense of normalcy got the better of me and neither Matthew nor Malia has gotten boosted as they should have, so Malia has to stay home. We have reassured her that she can still go outside to walk, ride her bike, etc. as long as she isn’t around other people, but I’m not sure it’s all that comforting. She had big plans for this trip, and she is absolutely devastated. I’m terribly disappointed too, but I’ll can easily admit that I’m nowhere near as crushed as she is. It’s hard for me to see her disappointment. Covid has stolen yet another bit of her life away and there is nothing I can do to change that.

You know those white elephant gift exchanges where there is always something really cool that everyone fights over, a bunch of “meh” kind of stuff and then that one terrible gift that no one wants? I feel like we just left the party with the skunk scented deodorant.

A Passion for Poultry

Remember a few days ago when I said that Malia wants to make chickens for everyone she knows because she loooooves the chicken she sewed in her sewing camp? She started with her cousin Kate, of course, because Kate is one of her most important people. Malia asked me to text my sister Rachael to get a picture of Kate’s favorite chicken (because they keep chickens and consider Kate to be the “chicken whisperer” of the family) as well as that chicken’s name. The yellow Buff Orpington, named Orpy, is Kate’s favorite because it is so fat and fluffy. Malia made a mini Orpy, packed it up very nicely in a gift bag, and gave it to Kate when we had dinner at my parents’ house on Sunday. This evening Rachael sent me a picture.

Kate loooooves the chicken!

Has the Day of Miracles Ceased?

Last week our “Come Follow Me” study covered the many mighty miracles performed by the prophet Elisha. It was a wonderful week reading about all the people’s lives that were touched by those miracles and the great faith that they and Elisha had that allowed the miracles to happen. Despite the underlying story of the Israelites’ continued descent into wickedness, these events highlighted goodness and righteousness that was still found among the people. 

I feel like there are parallels to our modern day lives to be found in all those stories. It’s the “likening the scriptures unto us” part. (1 Nephi 19:23) While so much of the world is becoming more wicked in what seems to be more a much more blatant manner, we and our families can be islands of righteousness amidst the stormy seas, islands where faith, and God, prevail, where goodness and joy is still found, and where miracles still happen. Because miracles do still happen. My family and I have seen many miracles in our lives, and we had another one today.

Unfortunately, Nathan has inherited a tendency towards headaches from me. Before he left for the MTC, he had all the prescriptions he needed, he knew of a variety of things he needed to do to prevent headaches, and his headaches, while more frequent than most normal people experience, were still mostly occasional and well managed. All that changed not long after he arrived in Texas, however. As of today, he has had a headache non-stop for eighty-two days. While he powers through it, like most chronic headache suffers do, it was beginning to seriously wear him out physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. He has been working with the mission nurse and the mission doctor, but neither of them has the expertise necessary to help him break this headache. He has already seen one doctor in Texas, who admitted flat out that he doesn’t know much about headaches, and has been given several medications to try, but neither has given any lasting relief as of yet. 

After I talked to him last week, I was very worried. The mission doc who had put him on the preventative medication had not told him that it was a different class of drug so it would be safe to take his rescue meds with the new one. One a scale of 1-10, Nathan’s headache level had been at a 7 for several days and he had not taken any meds for the pain because he didn’t know if it was safe. He said several times, “I don’t want to worry you, but….” Which of course meant my concern rose very quickly. He looked haggard. And hopeless. And this mama bear jumped right into mega worry mode. 

I began searching for headache specialists in the Fort Worth area and found a couple options that looked promising and were listed as in network with our insurance. I sent all the info to Nathan, but as it was no longer p-day, I couldn’t actually discuss any of it with him. I did get in touch with the mission nurse though, and she and I began exchanging information regularly. She is also worried about Nathan. The mission president has been in Texas for a whole week and a half, so he is still working to get his feet under him. Despite that, he felt like he needed to meet with Nathan. His initial conversation with the mission nurse added to that feeling and after he read Nathan’s first weekly letter to the president, that feeling solidified, and he ended up rescheduling another meeting so he could meet with Nathan. At that meeting, he conveyed to Nathan his great desire to keep him in the mission and facilitate the necessary appointments and such to help him get the care he needs. He also basically commanded Nathan to take the days off that he needed when the pain is high. Nathan came out of the meeting feeling like he had been given permission to take care of himself. His gut instinct is to always put other people first, so sometimes he needs to be reminded that he needs to take care of himself in order to be able to take care of others, so feeling like he had been given permission to put himself first for once was a necessary step in the right direction. It helped knowing he had support, but still the pain marched on.

Around here, we have been praying that Nathan would have the revelation that he needs to get the care he needs. We fast for him regularly and it seems like there are dozens of us putting his name on the temple prayer rolls. In the past month that prayer has expanded to include his mission leadership and the healthcare professionals he is working with. And in the past several weeks, we have added Kevin and I to the list of people that need guidance to know how to help our son. After I talked to him last Monday and my worry escalated, I began to tearfully plead with the Lord for a miracle. 

Today is p-day which means we were anticipating a video call from Nathan. Around lunchtime today, it suddenly occurred to me that I should get in touch with my cousin Shirlene. She and her orthopedic surgeon husband lived in Arlington for a number of years and are still good friends with the patriarch in the stake where Nathan is currently serving. I thought that perhaps Greg, her husband, might have some ideas of doctors to see. She responded quickly with the info that he mostly knows other orthopedists, but said she’d ask him. About fifteen minutes later, she sent me another message. She had reached out to her friend in Texas. The friend had reached out to a friend of hers who has chronic migraines, and the friend of a friend was more than happy to share info about the doctor she sees and the clinic she goes to as she has gotten fantastic care there. The downside was the fact that the clinic is in Dallas, which is outside Nathan’s mission boundaries, and the mission president preferred for him to get care within boundaries if possible. I checked in with my good friend Google though and discovered that although the headache clinic is in Dallas, they have an associated clinic in Fort Worth with several neurologists that have experience in treating headaches. 

All that info came in as I was actually chatting with Nathan. I shared the info with him, along with a barrage of other names and phone numbers, and he started making calls. Several calls resulted in only voice mail boxes and messages left, but the clinic that I found through Shirlene’s friend of a friend had different results. They had just had a cancellation and there was one appointment available for tomorrow morning. The next available appointments aren’t until November. Nathan took the appointment, smart kid that he is, and then came the need to work out the details. His companion has a dentist appointment tomorrow morning for some pretty unpleasant tooth pain, so Nathan wasn’t sure he’d be able to make the appointment. I immediately reached out to the mission nurse who emphatically exclaimed that he needed to get to that appointment. She in turn, immediately reached out to the mission president and his response was, “Let’s get this done and not waste a little miracle!”

That’s exactly what this is, of course. The much prayed for miracle that we need. I have no illusions and know that one appointment is not going to fix everything, but I also know that getting in to see a specialist can take months. If Nathan had called that office yesterday or tomorrow or even four hours earlier than he did, that single appointment would not have been available. The thought I had to ask Shirlene was a tiny bit of revelation that sparked a miracle for Nathan.

As Moroni so eloquently teaches, “Have miracles ceased? Behold I say unto you, Nay; neither have angels ceased to minister unto the children of men.” (Moroni 7:29) And often the miracles come as whisperings of the still small voice and with the help of the many mortal angels that cross our paths. This missionary mom owes a debt of gratitude to a couple of ladies living thousands of miles away in Texas. And to the Lord, because “all things which are good cometh of God.” (Moroni 7:12)

The final details are that the mission president has authorized splits with another companionship so that both Nathan and his companion can get to their medical appointments. Nathan has permission to send Kevin and I health information so he will let us know how it goes tomorrow. And I will water my pillow with tears later this evening as I thank my Heavenly Father for this miracle. The mission president may call it a little miracle, but to us, it’s huge.

International Eats-Spain

Tonight’s dinner took us to Spain. Although paella is the dish that comes to mind first when I think of Spanish food, it is much too labor intensive for me right now. So I did some searching and found something different. I was initially really excited to try the Spanish cod stew and Spanish paprika and garlic carrots. The stew is definitely a departure from what we normally eat, combining familiar ingredients in a very different dish. However, I have to say that this evening’s meal was not a success. The stew was…ok. Kev and I could eat it, but we would not choose it if we had other options. Matthew and Malia tasted it and that was about it. So big flop on that one. The carrots were also…ok. Matthew liked them but I think the rest of us were of the option that we could eat them but would much prefer our carrots in a different dish. So a medium flop on that one.

I had such high hopes for Spain. Maybe I’ll give it another try with a different dish. Or maybe I’ll move on to another country. We still have quite a long list of countries to sample, after all.

Cod Stew Rating: 1 fork

Paprika and Garlic Carrots: 1 ½ forks

Sew What?

Malia is a very opinionated person. Yes, I know we all have our moments, and yes, I also know that with Kevin and I as her parents she was bound to have a strong personality, and yes, I would much rather have her be able to stand up for what she believes in the wacky world in which we live, but sometimes, it makes me a little crazy. For instance, she is a crafty girl. She loves to create things. And I’ve long thought that she would really enjoy adding machine sewing to her list of skills as it would open up a whole new world of creating for her. But does she want to hear that from me? No way. If I suggest it, it is no good. It has to be her idea. Last summer she spent an entire day with my mom learning some basic sewing machine skills and creating a fun tote bag with a million tiny pockets for her LSP (the Littlest Pet Shop toys). She had a great time and was really proud of what she created. But once she got home, she didn’t want anything to do with any encouragement or suggestions that came from me. 

We have a lady who moved in up the street from us last year who runs an in-home business teaching people to sew. She offers a variety of small classes and workshops as well as private lessons. And in the summer, she holds a few sewing camps for kids. They learn some basic sewing machine skills and create a different project each day using the skills they learn. The mother of one of Malia’s friends in the ward asked me a few months back if Malia was interested in attending one of those camps with her daughter. I consulted Malia, and she agreed, but I honestly think it was because it would be time spent with Shar and not for any real excitement about the activity. Nevertheless, agree she did.

Her three days of sewing camp were this week and before they started on Tuesday, her reluctance was showing. She asked about the time when it would be held and when she learned that it would be 2 ½ hours for each of the three days, her response was a somewhat morose, “That’s a long time.” But again, the lure of Shar sent her off to her first day of camp.

Malia came home a changed child. She was bubbling with excitement and was incredibly proud of the projects she had created, especially the chicken. (She did some basic stitch practicing and made a gathered flower and a chicken.) In addition to Shar, one of her friends from school happened to be in the class and the time had flown by. She immediately asked if I would show her how to use my sewing machine and followed that up by asking how much a kids’ sewing machine would be. Her lackadaisical attitude was completely gone, and she was highly enthusiastic about her newfound confidence and skills. 

I was more than just pleased. I was thrilled! Having someone else teach her suddenly made everything exciting and new. And having friends who shared in her enjoyment of the creative process certainly helped. She trotted off to her next two days of camp with anticipation and joy and came home contented with her progress and anxious to do some more sewing. On the second day she created an otter pop holder and a scrunchie. The third and final day of the camp was spent sewing a drawstring backpack. She did a fantastic job, and her response was, “When I look at it, I can’t believe I made it!” It really does look great. I’m so proud of what she has learned in such a short time and I’m hoping her enjoyment of sewing continues. I plan to feed the fire and encourage her however I can.

As for my neighbor, I owe her a big thank you. It was the best $75 I’ve spent all summer. 

Oh, and now Malia wants to make chickens for everyone she knows. She loooooves the chicken. And it is cute. 😂

Quiet Independence

Our Independence Day was very different this year. With both Daniel and Nathan living elsewhere, we were fewer in number than we have ever been before. And Matthew and Malia spent yesterday afternoon and evening with Cory and Michelle and their girls, so it was just Kev and I rattling around the house. We went out for dinner and everything since it was just the two of us. And with no kids at home, we didn’t bother with sparklers or fireworks.

But we didn’t boycott the holiday completely. Our standard patriotic food assortment still occurred. It was just spread out over three days. When I was deciding what form our red, white and blue cuisine would take this year, I realized that neither Matthew nor Malia has ever eaten ice cream cake. Matthew not having sampled this particular delight is not unexpected, but Malia missing out has been in large part due to the fact that she is younger than Matthew and we were pretty much set in our allergen free lifestyle by the time she came along. That made deciding on a dessert really simple. Instead of creating one large ice cream cake, I made individual ones as that was a super easy way to make them each with the appropriate kind of ice cream. We ate them on Sunday evening and let me tell you, they were delightful. My kids have become fast converts to the phenomenon that is ice cream cake. I’m already thinking about what flavor to make next. And they are looking forward to it.

Yesterday we had red, white and blue crepes for breakfast. Ever since I introduced my kids to crepes and the various other super thin, tender pancakes that are traditional throughout Europe that we sampled as part of our Pancakes Around the World adventure last summer, they occasionally start to crave some sort of crepe-like delight. So I decided to make the traditional French pancake American style. 😂 They were fun. And tasty. (Even the very last “tie dyed” one that looked rather unappetizing.) Thumbs up all the way around for that one.

We had our all-American meal this evening. I was planning on hamburgers, but the fam voted for sloppy joes instead. We paired our messy main dish with chips and dip, something I don’t put on the menu very often, and added the kids’ normal tri-colored beverages. We finished up our meal with a repeat of the ice cream cake. Again, yum.

It was a much mellower holiday than usual. It was also a little glimpse of what the future holds for Kev and me as the kids continue to grow up. 

It’s All Relative

Yesterday morning I was reading a talk about parenting lessons we can learn from the Book of Mormon. As my mind was pondering on the importance of family in the Lord’s plan, I was reminded of an interesting connection that we made back at the end of May. My nephew Jacob, Rachael’s oldest son, graduated from high school and when we received his graduation announcement, the first thing we thought was, “Gosh! Jacob looks a lot like Matthew!” I then sent a picture of Matthew to Rachael and her first thought was, “Gosh! Matthew looks a lot like Jacob!” We couldn’t see it when they were younger, but as they have both matured, the resemblance has become quite clear. Other than their very different coloring, these two look remarkably similar. They must be related or something. 😉

International Eats-Sweden

When folks around here thing of Swedish food, I’m pretty sure the first thing that comes to mind is the Swedish meatballs served at our local rat maze with a cinnamon scented reward at the end, IKEA. I’ve sampled the IKEA meatballs and while many people rave about them, they are still cafeteria food and I think the quality reflects that. Since cafeteria food isn’t generally something that is safe for my kids, Matthew has never eaten at IKEA and Malia ate there only once when she was tiny and in her pre-food allergy days. But of course, when my kiddos decided they wanted to sample some Swedish fare, meatballs were the first thing that came to my mind. 

This evening was our Swedish sampling test and let me tell you, homemade always beats cafeteria. Always. Seriously, these little gravy coated wonders were a delight. They were tender and flavorful and absolutely delicious. Our meatballs were accompanied by mashed potatoes, a Swedish cucumber salad, and a side of the traditional lingonberries. While the meatballs were a favorite all the way around, the cucumber salad got mixed reviews. Malia hated it. Matthew loved it. Kev thought it was ok but wouldn’t choose it if asked. And I thought it was a nice change of pace, a good dish for once in a while. 

I have a feeling the meatballs will be requested again. The salad? Maybe not. We’ll see if Matthew liked it enough to remember it later.

Swedish Meatballs Rating: 4 forks
Cucumber Salad Rating: 2 ½ forks

RIP Old Friend

When I got married, I was certain that I wanted a Kitchenaid mixer. I used the industrial Kitchenaids when I worked in veg prep at BYU and they were great. Kevin’s mom had a compact Bosch though, and he had a feeling I would really like the Bosch better due to the larger motor and the fact that his mom’s machine had been in use for thirty years with no problems at all. He had to talk long and hard before we ended up watching a demonstration for the full-sized Bosch at the Bosch store and I decided to give the Bosch a try. I’ll admit that I had misgivings. I had no experience with this brand, had never even heard of it, and the price tag used up a good portion of our wedding gift money. But we did end up buying it and once I made my first batch of bread in the Bosch, I never looked back. Seriously, it was love at first loaf.

After twenty-three years of heavy use with absolutely no problems, I plugged in my Bosch earlier today and let out the smoke and sparks. I have to admit that I was more than a little bit dismayed. My trusty friend was dead! We had to reset the fuse down in the breaker box and everything. Kev was headed out on some errands, so he added a stop at the Bosch store to see about repairs to his list of stops. When he got there, he was told that it will be two weeks before they can even look at my machine, so wonderful man that he is, he bought me a new one. Nearly all the attachments are compatible with both the older model I purchased all those years ago and the new one, so it looks like I’m back up and running. 

So I have a new friend, one that will hopefully work just as hard as the old one. And my compact Bosch (because yes, I have both sizes and the little one has been making some unhappy sounds) will be diagnosed in a couple of weeks. I have a feeling I’ve taxed the smaller motor by kneading too much bread dough, but I suspect the issues I’ve had making smaller batches of bread in the big Bosch can be fixed with some different attachments, thus leaving the little guy for lighter work such as whipped cream and cake batter. So hopefully once the tiny one is back up and running, it will be another quarter century before I run into problems again.