This morning my hand mixer died.

For those of you not knowing the awesomeness that is this particular kitchen appliance, I am sad.

The hand mixer, also known as an immersion blender or even hand blender (although those two words together in a literal sense make an unpleasant visual), is a kitchen godsend.  Making creamed soup, grab the hand mixer; making hummus, baba ganoush, bean dip, guacamole, grab the hand mixer; happy morning frappe…you guessed it, grab the hand mixer.  My hand mixer has been in and out of soup pots, measuring cups, mixing bowls, being used almost daily for the last eight or so years.  This morning, while in the midst of pureeing another happy, fruity, yummy frappe, its spinning blade came to a stand still.  It had pureed its last… (of course this happened when I was in a frantic rush to get somewhere on time…)

I stood there trying to grasp the entirety of my loss (and also trying to figure out how to finish making the partially ground up fruit into something drinkable).  Then I had a beautiful epiphany…we had bought a backup when we had acquired this one.  Much rejoicing.  If I could remember where we put the backup the world would be a much better place.