I was home in Ontario visiting my parents a few weeks ago, and while there we made a trip to that Mecca of modern civilization: Costco. Ah, glorious Costco, a wonderland of free samples, vats of mayonnaise, and unsupervised children who wander into the paths of carts far too laden with products to stop in time. My parents and I did indeed go on a rather impressive shopping spree -- to the tune of a shocking $500 or so, if I recall correctly -- but we got some impressive loot and trust me, we needed all of it. I mean whole beef tenderloins! literally several dozed filet mignon cuts! and us with a super-amazing bbq at home that would never forgive us...it had to be purchased.

Costco is indeed to be revered. I myself share an executive member ship with my mother, but have sadly not been able to put t to very good use as of yet, since I am lacking a car and trying to take home costco products -- say, a full case of mac n' cheese -- on the bus in a little ridiculous. There were a few things that Ed and I had had a mind to purchase for a while that could only be acquired there, however, so the quest for a suitable vehicle was on. Chris, it turns out, not only has a most loverly van in which the seats fold down, but hadn't bee to costco in ages. A quick barter of his car for my membership and some cookies, and we had a shopping date. I love being a grad student with flexible daytime hours.

I went for office chairs, possible a present or two for Ed, and the very vaguest thought of getting a heavy-duty mixer. Chris and I walked out with over $1100.oo in stuff. Yes, the decimal is in the right place. I still ge the jibblies looking at the bill.

But, see, they actually had a biometric authenticator! And its Ed's birthday! And comfy pajamas, and sugar snap peas, and good alfredo sauce, and some killer cook books...but I knew, really knew and accepted I was in deep trouble when there, on a display, was the mixer of my dreams: a Kitchenaid Prefessional Heavy duty mixer in empire red. It made me almost tremble with the urge to get my bake on. A the same moment, Chris saw a Black and Decker hand mixer that called to him with the same strength. We shared a look, grabbed our respective appliances, and officially gave up.

The office chairs are very comfy, and make the time I spend with Gertrude much more pleasant. My mixer is assembled and on display in my pitifully small kitchen. With counter space at such a premium, I could scarce afford the loss of a couple more cubic feet, but for her, I'll manage. I caress her dough hook fondly, and can't wait to go on an expedition for some specialty flour and get some beautiful dough a-risin'. It has been far too long since my house smelled of fresh bakes bread.

Yeah, I cook. I cook a lot. I am not yes a domestic goddess by any means, but I am young and aspire to much. Ed teases me sometimes -- I'm all sophisticated-graduate-student-writer and such, but I still love my kitchen. I'd love it more if it had some damn counters. And a food processor. And a toaster whose handle didn't fly off every tiem the toast popped up. Though I really shouldn't speak ill of Dave -- he ahs served me well for years, and lightly toasts more delicately than his hoity toity-er cousins.

There I go anthropomorphizing the appliances again. I need some wine.