True Confessions of a Pot Holder

Hi, I’m Mari………I’m 44 years old, married for 18 of those, a mother for 15 ½, and I’ve never purchased a pot holder. (This is where you all say, “Hi, Mari.”) Some might call it a hot pad or a hot pot holder or an oven mitt. Whatever you call it, I’ve never bought one. I have them, thanks to the sewing ability of my mother and the generosity of Secret Santa’s, although the latter ones tend to be of a more decorative nature and therefore not very practical. I made some pot holders when I was younger when I got one of those mini-looms for Christmas. You know the kind that comes with the multi-colored bands that you loop around and weave through a little, plastic, square loom. I could certainly use some new hot pads now and am reminded of this each time I burn my left thumb and index finger, but it just seems like such a waste of time and money. What’s the big deal if my hot pads are scorched and torn and discolored? No one’s going to see them but my family and me. And the occasional dinner guest. And the occasional picnic when I bring a hot dish, or do you call it a casserole?

Yes, I undoubtedly need new pot holders, but I refuse to take even a brief moment to make a special trip just to buy them, and I can’t seem to remember anytime I’m already out and about. I’m not even sure what to look for when selecting them. Do I need to know my hand size? Are some materials more flame retardant than others? I seem to have a knack for placing them too close to a burner. Good thing the sink’s close to the stove. A student knitted a pot holder for me once, but it only lasted about two weeks before it was reduced to a mass of shriveled yarn with crispy corners. If buying hot pads is so easy then why don’t they put them at the front of the store so I can remember that I need some? Maybe then if I actually purchased some, I’d also receive some kind of warning about how NOT to use them. I know if I ask my mom she’ll make me some new ones, but I should be intellectually mature enough and financially stable enough to buy some all by myself.

Maybe my lack of ambition and desire to purchase a pot holder is a latent desire to never cook again. No. That would be a very obvious, blatant desire. I’m sure Freud would agree.

I have to use pot holders for everything, not just cookie sheets and pie plates, because our pots and pans are made of cast iron. Grab the handle of one of those hot babies without a pot holder one time, and you’ll never do it again……….even if the pan is cold.

Maybe since I’m spending 650 words talking about pot holders, I’ll remember to buy some the next time I’m at a store that sells them. As soon as I figure out where they hide them. Don’t tell me they’re in the Housewares section because I don’t buy measuring cups and spoons and dish clothes and whatever else they sell there. I have a wonderful mother and mother-in-law who keep me in supply of all that stuff. Chances are favorable, however, that when I finish this column, I’ll forget all about needing new pot holders or hot pads or oven mitts until the next time I have to move a pan of boiling potatoes or remove a pan of muffins. Maybe to help me remember, we need to give them a more important name. After all, something so essential that hasn’t evolved in centuries should be called something like, Hand Protector 2000.