Years ago, one of my friends went on a trip and brought me back a gift: a hot pad for my cast iron skillet handle. I’d never seen anything like it before and was completely smitten. Ever since, it’s been in heavy use.

But then, o woe, I partially burned it up while making “steek” on the outdoor cookstove the other week. The hot pad was mangy before, but now bits of charred fabric were flaking into the food. It was time for it to go.

And then a few days later when I was making my birthday list, it occurred to me that I could request a new skillet sock. I already had a pair of my cousin Zoe’s handmade hot pads on my wishlist, so it’d be pretty easy to just add a skillet sock, too. But oh no, Zoe didn’t have any skillet socks on her site! I poked around Etsy, and then around Amazon, too, but, nothing looked right. All the skillet socks were either too flimsy or too tacky. Besides, how could I know if they were properly made, durable and thick enough to keep my hand from burning?

On the verge of giving up all together, I decided I could at least ask Zoe if she’d made them before. Maybe she had a secret stash somewhere? Zoe replied that she had tried to make them, but wasn’t pleased with the results. “But I’d be willing to try again for you if you can wait…” 

“Only if you WANT to,” I wrote back.

A couple hours — HOURS! — later, an email from Zoe popped up on my screen: she had two hot pads finished and ready. (WHAT?? ALREADY?!?!)

Even though Zoe sent me photos so I knew what the hot pads looked like, and even though I ordered the hot pads myself (since my husband said it’d be easier), I didn’t open the package until my actual birthday, be impressed. 

Turns out, the hot pads couldn’t have been more perfect: thick and sturdy, practical and beautiful. I get a kick out of the subtle humor, too: the chili peppers on the one, the coffee on the other — HOT!

They belong in my kitchen, these hot pads do.

Thank you, Zoe!

P.S. I just checked out her site this morning, and now she has a whole selection of skillet socks for sale, lucky you!

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (10.17.16), rich, that thing we do, deprivation.

This same time, years previous: a list, the adjustment, the quotidian (10.15.12), grab and go: help wanted, three vignettes: my husband, how to have a donut party, part one, apple cake, 2008 garden stats and notes.

The soiree happened again!

As is the custom, we kicked off the weekend with a feast: melt-in-your-mouth beef tenderloin, Bloody Marys, an amazing Caesar salad with candied orange slices (I know!!!), and salted chocolate caramel tart. Oh, and the soup had a whole dried hibiscus flower floating in the center, delish.

For the afternoon’s entertainment, my aunt rented a pontoon and we boated up and down Cheat Lake. At one point we cast anchor (or whatever you call it) so we could swim. I wanted to get in, and I was already wearing my swimsuit, but all that murky, dark water kind of freaked me out. Who knew what was lurking just below the surface, waiting to grab my feet? Plus, I’d washed my hair that morning. It’d be so much easier to just sit prettily on the pontoon.

But then my sister-in-law hurled herself into the deep, dark lake, and then my cousin-in-law followed suit. Far too often in life, I’ve refrained from physical adventure, not wanting to deal with the mess and dirt, but that afternoon, I decided, no more wall-flowering. I was on a pontoon in the middle of a gorgeous lake on a brilliant fall afternoon, for crying out loud.

GET IN THE WATER ALREADY, JENNIFER.

And so in I jumped and it was marvelous.

Normally, deep water makes me feel like I might be drowning (because I might be!), but this time, for some reason, I was completely relaxed. Maybe because there was no pool side to grab onto? Maybe because the lake water contained some sort of mineral that created buoyancy?

In any case, my cousin-in-law and I (my sister-in-law had already gotten out) just hung out there in the middle of the lake, treading water and visiting. When I got tired, I’d stretch out on my back and relax, like I was on my living room couch. From the pontoon, the rest of the gang kept an eye on us, making sure we didn’t float too far away or get run over by passing speed boats, and after a half hour (forty-five minutes?) of water therapy, it was time to move on.

That evening we ate dinner at a restaurant that had the best garlic cream sauce. (I’d ordered charcuterie, but then I ate everyone else’s food, too. Perks of swimming!) And then we went home and sat around the fire pit and drank red wine and coffee and told stories.

The next morning we had coffee in the sunroom, followed by brunch.

One of the topics of discussion: my aunt’s killer legs. She took a self portrait when she was young (and no longer a plain Mennonite, obviously) and now the photo hangs in her bedroom.

I’m a fan.

My aunt surprised me with a birthday present (my birthday was the next day): a crazy-heavy, solid marble rolling pin. And then everyone else was like, Hey, no fair! I want the soiree to be held on my birthday!

But then, as is her custom, my aunt gave everyone a present.

First, a whole series of nesting boxes with a chocolate in the middle, which we all found hugely entertaining. And then she gave us another box and in it was a silver necklace with two pendants that read “nevertheless” and “she persisted.”

So perfect. Wearing it gives me an emotional kick-in-the-pants.

Before leaving, we took some parting group shots.

This same time, years previous: peanut butter fudge, the quotidian (10.13.14), home, roasted red pepper soup, pepperoni rolls, sweet onion corn bake, pumpkin cake with cream cheese frosting.