I had a great pair of kitchen shears for about 15 years. Strong enough to cut pennies, the demonstrator said, and then she did just that: cut a penny with the shears, right in front of me.
I was so impressed, I bought the kitchen shears and a set of pots and pans. It didn’t matter that I didn’t know how to cook at the time. The demonstrator was very convincing and I was convinced. Sold to the young woman who had to look up how long to boil an egg! (That was me.)
Over time, I learned how to cook and bake. I never could remember how long to boil an egg from one time to the next, so I had to look that up in a cookbook each time. (This was in the pre-Internet era.) The pots and pans were pretty good and lasted a long time, but the kitchen shears, they were the star of the show. They actually cut everything they were supposed to, each and every time. They came apart for easy cleaning, too. Ooh, aah.
It’s the same old story as to how I lost the kitchen shears. You know the story, the one about a woman who has something that a man wants. Yes, that story.
I was dating a man and I must have made the mistake of cooking for him. The details are a bit hazy, so I’m filling in the blanks as accurately as I can. Cooking for him turned into a mistake because he saw my kitchen shears. After that, he only had eyes for them.
The next thing I knew, I was engaged.
After I was married, my kitchen shears disappeared. I lost them to my new husband when he claimed them as my dowry. He loves those shears. We got another pair of shears for a wedding present, as part of a knife set, but they are definitely not as good. Those are the ones I use, in the kitchen. (Deep sigh.)
Another 15 years have gone by and now the fabulous shears are 30 years old. My husband is starting to trust me with them a little more. But not in the kitchen. He’s used them for anything and everything else, so kitchen use is out of the question. They are great for cutting into those plastic covers on items you bring home from the store — that plastic that is childproof, adultproof, dogproof and (probably) bombproof. It’s quite an effort to try to get to that item in that indestructable plastic. My husband can, because he’s got The Shears.
Lately, I’ve been missing my shears more than usual, so I’ve come up with a plan: buy another pair of the same make. I thought maybe they weren’t made anymore, but they are. And I’m in luck, the manufacturer will have a demonstration at a show in my area in January. I bet I’ll be able to find their booth pretty easily. I’ll just follow the line of women with a gleam in their eye, who are dreaming of having their own pair of fabulous kitchen shears again. While we’re in line, we can trade ideas about where to hide them from our husbands.
Hmmm, a new pair of kitchen shears. Does this mean I get a new husband?