open letter to my fine mesh sieve

Dear Fine Mesh Sieve,

You never really had a place in my kitchen before I started baking on the regular.  Welcome.  I hope the other utensils are treating you well, because I know what it’s like being the new kid at school.  I chose to wow my new peers with an a capella version of “It’s a Small World” at the school talent show.  (I was seven, give me a break!)  You sort of did the same thing when you busted through the doors, saving me from lumpy pudding, or quiche custard, or other stuff that I can’t think of that should not be lumpy.  While it took me three times to awkwardly start the song, I won over the crowd, even getting a free pass to sit with the cool fifth graders in the back of the bus on the way home from school that day.  You’ve earned your place next to the fancy sifter, and the Pyrex measuring cups, in the cupboard. 

While you’re good at what you do, I think there are moments when you’re too good for your job – too fine a sieve, if there is such a thing in the world.  You’re like the gates of Mordor some days- none shall pass!  It all works out in the end though, and like that little Hobbit purging that ring into the fiery lava below, I wield a wooden spoon and work whatever I’m making through your tiny sieve gates, getting the job done.

I’m sorry that I’m not very good at capturing you actually doing your job in photos.  Can you blame me?  I only have two hands!  I’ll work on it, I promise. 

I don’t think it’s too soon to say, I love you, you fine mesh sieve.