The rolling pins were here and there. Taking up space. Pushing cooking tools around in the drawer like school yard bullies. Threatening to roll off the top of the microwave onto my foot, smashing it like a drunk relative on a wedding dance floor.
I took stock of them. My ‘donate’ pile for the rest of the house was about big enough to make a trip to the local drop-off, so I figured weeding through the rolling pins was in order.
“How did I get so many of these?” as I lay them all out on the counter.
‘That one’ was an original from my Mom’s kitchen. A gift to me along with other must-haves for a new life in the city. This one stays.
‘This one’ is a memento for all the trips our family has taken to Disney. Plus, it’s the only French rolling pin in the collection. Must keep.
The ‘Bites of Nostalgia Pin’ is the trademark to my many shortbread cookies. Not. Going. Anywhere.
Then there is my Work Horse. My five pound, solid marble go-to pin. Also known as the Biscotti and bicep-maker, it will be itemized in my Will.
Ok, I had it down to four.
Now what? A trip to Ikea, naturally.
Then, a trip to Auto Zone for automobile door trim.
And of course, a trip to Home Depot for the right wall anchors.
The only thing left was a little batting of the eye lashes to Mystery Man for the install.