You Will Not Win, Betty Crocker

It started like any other day. Well, no, not really. It's not just any 'ole Saturday that I wake up and feel adventurous enough to attempt my hand at Christmas candy making, so this was no ordinary Saturday.

I'm up and Adam before 9:00 a.m. and feel that now is as good as time as any to follow my Grandma's advice and make "Easy Divinity." Yes, it's called Easy Divinity. Here's where my story begins.

First of all, whoever named this concoction EASY divinity can bend over, pucker up, and plant one right ... we all know how that age-old saying goes. I begin by mixing all of the wet ingredients. For this task I get out my mixer, which sees daylight approximately 1.25 times a year. Trust me, I did the math. So I begin mixing and all is well. "See, this really IS Easy Divinity." Next up, gradually add 16 ounces of confectioners sugar. Excuse me? Gradually? How gradually, because gradually adding a pound of sugar can be quite a timely process. In my fit of mixing and gradually adding in way more sugar than anyone human being should consume, I realize I need a spatula. I turn off my mixer and open up my utensil drawer only to find I own a whopping one spatula, but not just any spatula. No, have just any plain jane spatula would not made this process entertaining.

I am the proud owner of the tiniest spatula in North America, second only to spatulas found in a barbie cooking set. My spatula is approximately 5 inches long and .75 inches wide. I resume the mixing only to find that it is quite hard to spatulate (a process in which you are using your tiny spatula) the growing glob of glue that has become the pound of sugar. I try and try with my spatula, and Lord knows it was a beautiful rendition of The Little Engine that Could, but bless its heart it just wasn't cut out for a task of monumental proportions. I turn off the mixer and reevaluate my options. Let's pause there.

In all of this stopping and starting of the mixer, have I mentioned that my dog hates, and I mean hates, household appliances that make any sort of loud noise? So imagine if you will, that with each flick of the power switch to my GE hand mixer, my 75lb "puppy" is sent into attack mode. Attack mode in my kitchen. Attack mode in my TINY kitchen, in which said attack mode can lead one's ears to ringing. Let's continue.

After reevaluating my options, and my utensil drawer, I choose a long handled spoon. It's longer than 5 inches, so improvement for sure! This is where things take a turn for the worse. If you're curious as to what happens when you put a spoon into a sticky glob of goop that weighs at least a pound, let me enlighten you. It forms a ball, perfectly molded to the shape of the spoon, which cannot be altered unless the mixer is turned off and you're hands become involved. Once your hands become involved it's all downhill. Yes, "downhill" but only if the hill is covered in fire ants and you've just entered a three-legged race. I now have said sticky goop all over my hands. It's not budging. This goop is in it for the long hall.

I manage to scrape enough of it off of myself and back into the mixer to finish the task. Of course now there is goop on me, the mixer, and the spoon that I gave up on paragraphs ago. I continue my mixing, when I realize that my beautiful mixer that has only been used 1.25 times a year is not quite up to the challenge. The noise coming out of this pitiful machine is making my already ringing ears sad. I've resorted to a method of mixing that involves continuously lifting the beaters out of the bowl every 20 seconds to give them some relief. It's the only way this story is going to have a successful outcome. I'm on the last leg of the mixing; I can just feel it. The noise has gotten more pathetic, but I trudge on. That's when I notice it. Tiny wisps of smoke coming from the mixer. And then? Nothing. The mixer has died. The oh so easy divinity has killed it.

I scrape what I can from the blender into the ball, put on a brave face, and declare that Betty Crocker will not break me! After dropping three dainty little teaspoons of the mixture onto a cookie sheet, I think screw you Betty Crocker and begin to drop heaping tablespoons, cupfulls, whatever on the cookie sheet just to be done with it all.

In the end, the Easy Divinity recipe that was supposed to make me 36 candies yielded around 15. I'm taking them home this weekend and you better believe that my family will say they're the best darn Christmas candy ever. If not, bodily harm will be inflicted; that and they'll be forced to buy me a mixer.