Oil of Grace
My cast iron skillet is begging to be parented by a Southern mama. Even though I adopted it three years ago, I just decided today to take seriously the Care and Cleaning of Cast Iron Skillets. I’ve too often scrubbed it with soap and steel wool, and I may have oiled it once. This Midwest mama failed. It’s currently having a spa treatment, sitting upside down in my hot oven. Once it’s cool enough for me to touch, I’m going to massage it in oil, towel it off gently, and put it to back to bed, whispering words of recommitment.
I sigh as I think about the other things I don’t do well. I think it comes with January and all the hoopla about Making Resolutions, combined with the Lack of Sun and the Bitter Cold. Cast iron skillets are the least of my worries, really. Parenting Through Finals, Buying a Midlife Crisis Car, and Not Missing Another Meeting rise above. And don’t even remind me about Exercising Old Dogs in Winter, Calling Family, or Writing Frequent Meaningful Blog Posts.