I remember the day the motor in my mother’s 1970s era Waring 3-speed hand mixer died. She was making butter cookie dough from scratch. A Christmas tradition. On the third batch, the almond colored appliance stopped suddenly, mid-mix. My mother took a short pause, unplugged it, and inspected it carefully. She turned to me and said that it owed her nothing. I remarked that appliances she had from when she married my father were built to last. She slipped off rings that adorned all but her ring finger and quietly began mixing the dough by hand.

 
not missing a beat
she said at least something from the marriage
was built to last