Family Life

There was something comical about a balloon whisk, or so Inga thought. She imagined it in the sky above a basket and flame, allowing all the hot air to escape to the clouds above. Perhaps, she giggled to herself, it was something Wile E. Coyote might try.

General

The balloon whisk was ready in the pot by the stove-top, its silver wires reflecting the brilliant rays of the day.

General

With the whisk Alex imagined himself as a happy cyborg, one able to change himself as effectively as a Swiss-army penknife.

General

The balloon whisk was a rainbow of colours that spoke to Anthony's soul. With it he was the belle of the ball and nothing made him happier. By the time folks were hungry he would have prepared a feast, of that he was quite sure. Cooking for others was his "dance" and every step brought him joy.

Family Life

Upon the balloon whisk was a white-mop of troll-head hair. Charlie giggled and started to narrate the cooking from its troll-ish perspective.

General

We were here to cook for the needy and everything in this kitchen spoke to an army-like efficiency. Everything gleamed from the counter tops to the balloon whisks. Anyone who walked in here was doing so from a sense of love for sure, but putting that in motion took a lot of grit, the sort of grit that made this place shine.