Scissors to the rescue

This will blow away any surprise factor for shower and wedding gifts from me for the next couple of years, but it’s worth it to snare the perfect gift without spending a fortune.

OK, girls, here it is. Just tell your mom and your great-aunt Hilda that if I’m on the guest list, they’ll have to think of some other gift.

I’m talking about the most basic tool in your most basic kitchen furnishings, purchased right here in Peachtree City, beautifully wrapped.

There’s a good chance some physical problems or my advancing years are the reasons I no longer have enough strength to open bottle tops, olive jar tops, even plastic storage bags. But there is also a good chance that the drug, toy, and food industries are simply responding to the dangers perceived in the domestic marketplace.

Wait a minute; I got off the track here. Did I mention that I’m referring to a good pair of kitchen scissors?

Invented in the third century B.C., or perhaps in the first or fifth century A.D., one theory attributes their design to Leonardo da Vinci. According to J.Wiss & Sons in “The Story of Scissors” in 1948, Sir Flinders Petrie ascribes the development of cross-bladed shears to the First Century. “In the Fifth Century, the scribe Isidore of Seville, describes cross-bladed shears or scissors with a center pivot as tools of the barber and tailor.”

The feature I reach for most frequently: the set of teeth built into the arcs formed at the fulcrum or crossing. They grab a small bottle with a death grip unattainable by human hands. And one of the best features is that you can take those titanium blades apart for thorough cleaning.

Also called kitchen shears, they can cut through a chicken breastbone, although why anyone would like a butchered chicken breast is beyond me. Just above (Below? What’s up and what’s down on a pair of scissors?) the fulcrum, they hold tiny stems of herbs firmly enough to cut them into a tasty garnish. One blade has a metal can punch built into the handle. You can get left-handed or right-handed shears, but most are shaped for either hand.

Mine come out of the wooden knife block as soon as I get into the kitchen because I know I’ll need to open a can of hot chocolate mix and the stiff plastic collar needs more than just my fingers. Later Dave will want to pop open a beer. He can do it, but if I’m trying to be helpful, I’ll need to slip the scissors’ tip under the pull tab to get the prying power to open his brew.

And so it goes all day: a box of cereal that won’t let go of its lid until I apply just a bit more pressure – when they explode like Rice Krispies in a wind tunnel. Some houseplants need deadheading and will not let go their stems without help from the scissor tips.

Every package I’ve grabbed from the freezer recently refused to open as ordered. And you know that most paper has a “grain,” a tendency to tear in one direction and not the other. Try to take advantage of that bit of knowledge and you too can produce the Rice Krispies syndrome.

Cardboard boxes often need the power of the shears just to open on the dotted line. I love those cartons of soup that have appeared rather recently in the marketplace – butternut squash, spring pea, roasted red pepper – oh, so yummy. But these poor fingers have given up and the scissors pressed into service. The noble tools can actually cut the metal strip that some fiend hides in every box top.

I received thank-you notes from two of last year’s brides, both gracious and appreciated. One, however, could instruct the other. I’ve misplaced the notes, so this is just an approximation. One wrote, named the gift, and said she’s sure she’ll use it a lot because her mother keeps a pair always at reach.

The other young lady said the pair of shears I sent her were the nicest of the numerous scissors she had received.

I got the feeling I had given her just another pair of shears, whereas the other bride made me feel unique.

Thank you, girls, and all the rest of you who will traipse down the aisle soon. You’ll appreciate them, whether you receive one or a dozen pairs. Take it from a veteran of the wedding gift wars.