Circa 1956, when I was 6 yrs old I was "helping" my Mom stir up some batter with the electric mixer. Somehow my long ponytail got wound up in the beaters and pulled my face down to the bowl! Cool as a cucumber my Mom extricated me from the mixer and off we went to the shower and a good shampoo. Not for years did I know how guilty my Mom felt for letting that happen. Here's to all the Mom's who handle those kitchen accidents with aplomb while their hearts beat double time. I love to bake, as did my mother, and I still have a very healthy respect for my electric mixer.

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