how many blondes does it take to break a blender?

Answer: One. Me.

I may not have paid very much for the blender that I destroyed last night in the Great Soup Debacle of 2007, but I can't bear the thought of never using it again.

We just got it a few months ago. I used it a total of three times before melting and churning the top part into chunky little bits that bobbed about in what was supposed to be my dinner. Plus, I just dropped a third of my shifts at Toro to make more time for book writing in my busy schedule. I am on book leave, friends, and this means I am broke. I cannot afford to go around breaking blenders willy-nilly and replacing them like so many summer tank tops from H&M.

I woke up thinking about the blender last night at 4 a.m. As I lay there listening to my radiator clang and bang like a bunch of free jazz amateurs, it occurred to me: Maybe my Osterizer Classic came with a warranty! In the light of day, I looked into it. Here's what I found out:

Good news: I actually saved the instruction booklet which came with my Osterizer Classic blender! I did not read it, of course, but I did save it. (Deep down inside, I must have known I'd break the damn thing.) And, I remembered where I shoved this valuable little booklet so many weeks ago when the Osterizer Classic arrived on my doorstep from Target.com! I was not so blinded by the Osterizer's chrome-red beauty that I stashed it somewhere stupid! I put the instructions right where they belong: in the drawer beneath the blender's home on my kitchen counter. Kudos me.

Good news: The instruction booklet contains great tips for proper care and usage of your Osterizer Classic. The part that I ruined is properly named a "Feeder cap"- who knew?! The booklet even contains 30 pages of delicious recipes, from Cocktails to Baby Food to Pies and more! All of which can be made right in your home kitchen using your Osterizer Classic blender.

Bad news: The instruction booklet clearly states that the"Feeder cap" is not supposed to be used when blending hot liquids. And the recipe portion of the booklet disappoints. Dishes like "Sour Milk Pancakes" and "Ham Salad" miss the mark (and beg the question: why would I ever blend ham?)

Bad news: The magic warranty does not cover "damage resulting from negligent use or misuse of the product," (p. 39). Also, the warranty does not cover "Acts of God." If my soup experiment does not fall into the former category, it certainly falls into the latter.

Oh well. This means that when I call the authorities at Sunbeam Products, Inc. and try to convince them to give me a new "Feeder cap" for my blender, I'm going to have to lie about how my Osterizer Classic met it's maker. But, no worries. I'm not above that.

soup II

Dear Soup,

First I dreamed about you.

Then, I dreamed about you again.

Then I made you, after having several glasses of wine at a work thing with my boss. I chopped the leeks into manageable bits. I sauteed them. I added carrots--grated carrots, which required much elbow grease-- and butternut squash bits. And cooked you down in a low-sodium vegetable both bath for 25 minutes until tender.

Then, during step five of the soup recipe, it was time to blend you. And I melted part of my blender while trying to puree you. And was left with half a vat of useless, plastic-filled soup and a broken blender.

Thanks for nothing, soup.

Get out of my dreams and get out of my life.

It's solid foods for me, from here on in.