Slipping through the cracks of a Liberal Arts Education

This is an exerpt from a paper I wrote towards the end of my undergraduate career. My voice is there, and for those of you who have spent time in my kitchen, it may answer some questions...

***
There is a Sunbeam Mixmaster in my house.
Its body is a creamy tan, the color of tea with milk, its handle a pressed charcoal, and its bowls, integral to the machine, glow a foamy green. The mixer had belonged to my great-grandmother, Raizel, and was passed down through three generations until it landed solidly on my countertop. Its cord remains intact, and it could still be used were it not for an odd, hot smell that comes from the motor.

I thought at first I kept it because it was Raizel's, but it became clear to me, when others of its ilk began to appear in my kitchen, that my interest in it was far more than familial.

***

It's sad, then, that my mixers haven't been displayed for over a year. Remember how they used to sit on that rickety Ikea shelf in the kitchen - all rearing into the air like proud, wild horses?