I have just celebrated my girlfriend's birthday for the first time. It was her twenty-seventh. She's a Libra, while I'm a Virgo. This birthday is the first since we got together and subsequently moved in, and I'd been pretty busy of late, so I wanted to do something special; really, really extra nice. I wanted to get her something that she had always wanted, would always remember, and would often use -- thinking of me everytime. Call me an egomaniac, or a good boyfriend.

I got her a 6-Quart Kitchen Aid Mixer featuring raising bowl. Red, the color of her choice.

In the past, this may not have seemed the most sensitive present from a man to his special lady on her birthday; in fact, it may have seemed a back-handed token of his affection for her mastery of their domestic life. My mother, when I first told her the present that I was breathless to give, asked, "Isn't that kind of like giving her a vacuum?"

I had my mother ask my younger sister, age 21, for her thoughts. "No, mom. It's cool. It's a great gift." Which was exactly the response of every female whose opinion I asked before making this purchase. Every girl I talked to had looked longingly at the Williams-Sonoma catalog or in Filene's or online at the Kitchen-Aid, knew all the different options (various sizes, options on tilting head versus raising bowl, and all of the many colors) and prices of this appliance, and all arrived at the same verdict regarding my present: Wow. That's a great gift.

Which placated my ego. And, my desire to be a great boyfriend.

For my girlfriend and my sister (who some say look alike...) and the other women of my generation, the mixer has come to be a stylish symbol of homemaking prowess. Unlike mixers of the past, it doesn't emit o-zone while working and it comes in colors as exotic as tangerine and cobalt blue, or really any color you could think of that would match your kitchen sceme. It is an article of functional fashion. And a great gift.

But, for my mother, no slouch herself in the kitchen, the mixer still conjures those lovely visions of 50s domesticity that were railed against by the women of her generation. The generation of Ms. Magazine, these women fought for initial acceptance in the workplace, meaning a movement out of the kitchen. Away from the mixer. Which, then, would not be a great gift. To my mother.

Because of their fight, it is now a given that a woman will have a career. But, because of that career, what is no longer a given is that they will be able to have the time to enjoy the domestic pursuits of her grandmother's generation. Or, like our mother's generation, to enjoy them in a home that she actually owns.

The dream of home ownership, just behind my major baseball career at this point, is only attainable in a two income household, negating the 50s image of female domestic enslavement -- symbolized by kitchens, laundry, meals and mixers. Now, it is merely an anachronism -- reduced to old film strips, or resold in kitsch stores. A woman's hard won right to work outside the home began with Rosie the Rivetter and continued through the 60s. Now, though, we find ourselves in the era of the "Two Income Trap," where, according to the recent book of that title, as more and more homes have two working adults striving to pay mortgages, keep up maintainance, and raise families, rates of bankruptcy have gone up congruently. There has been a decline in the number of couples having children. Or couples are having children later. All in trying to pay for the rising cost of home ownership. Bypassing the problems this presents for Social Security or the truly disgusting cost of living , it also means less and less time to dedicate to ourselves, our hobbies, our pastimes.

Things like cooking or sewing or knitting, are no longer chores; they are hobbies. They are forms of artistic and individual expression serving a practical end, thereby maximizing the dwindling free time in the average week. Making a pie all Sunday afternoon and then eating it over a game of cribbage is not just for our grandparents. It is ideal recreation. It is relaxation, sustenance, and interaction. What Multi-Tasking! Which may explain why we see books on celebrity knitting or why every girl my age is obsessed not only with mixers, but with Martha and Trading Spaces. The domestic impulse, not just of women, is being reclaimed and embraced. The long term hopes of owning a home are at a nadir; yet, the immediate desire for the knowledge on how to paint, sew, and cook within that home are at a peak. We see the falling drops of the burst bubble, but we prepare for the time when it floats again! And when it does, we'll be ready: we'll plunge ourselves into debt, just like our parents did, and move our small, apartment sized appliances right into our new homes, and just pray for a spare minute when we can make a batch of cookies!

Which brings me back to the perfect gift for this time: the mixer. And, for my girlfriend, whose dream to own a red mixer just came true, I hope I have satisfied a dream, and helped stimulate that domestic impulse. And, it makes me a great boyfriend. Though, not even my ego is large enough to spring for the next thing that SHE'S ALWAYS WANTED: A home to put it in.