I didn’t click on the view post option this morning and so went all day before I realized there was a massive BOLD font accident. And then when I tried to fix it, I failed the first time. Perhaps it was good that I did not do much today.

The excitement, other than the above, “oh, my gosh” moment, was the arrival of my new ricer. The old one just totally gave up the ghost this Thanksgiving. This new one is all shiny, but the old one had a red handle . . . that eventually bent and was bent back using the handle of a wooden spoon for a brace until that also gave out. Of course, don’t let me confuse the issue – the handle stayed red, it just broke more. Breaking Bad maybe.

I think I am seeing a wisp of the old AmeliaJake in that last sentence.

Here’s a little ha-ha at AJ’s expense:

I have a small collection of old kitchen implements, many having been touched by people of five generations. When I was looking on the internet – actually, Der Bingle heard my “OH NO!” from the kitchen and started the search – I saw a picture of this odd-looking thing that is among my stuff . . . and then exclaimed, “That’s a ricer?!?” I guess all my young life, I was given the training wheel ricer while perhaps in another room the pros were using the sort of art deco-looking one.

I’m going to have to try it, although I can see myself sending a potato sailing toward the ceiling.