So it's getting on eleven or so, and Melinda and I are standing in the kitchen. She's holding the paddle from our ice cream maker; I'm holding the wooden salad scooper thingie* I've repurposed to transfer sorbet from the ice cream maker to the (also repurposed) yogurt containers I store the stuff in. We are both giggling like maniacs. She's licking
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(...What's a stick blender? Does it blend sticks? My sorbetery is lower than I thought.)
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I literally managed to blow out my first stick blender during a dinner party as I was making fresh whipped cream for the dessert. Mind you, I also managed to set a tranquility fountain on fire through sheer force of personality.
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What, all at once? You're good.
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