"I hate to admit it but, I don't think this pot can be saved," I called to Stuart over the terrific racket I was making with a metal spatula. "I've soaked it all week and I'm hardly making a dent in this mess." I insist on making my own pizza sauce because it's so thick and delicious but sometimes things go awry. I filled six quart jars with steaming goodness before I discovered that the bottom inch of sauce had fossilized.
Stuart came out in the kitchen and peered over my shoulder. "You're pretty rough on your pans. Remember the sweet potatoes?" (Two inches of water is not enough to steam forgotten potatoes for sixty-something minutes.) "I hate to throw this one out. It's a good heavy pan. Maybe I can take it to work and sandblast it." He was quiet for a minute, thinking. "I know, I've got a metal grinder out in my shop. That might work." He disappeared out the back door and I walked away from the sink and went to clean out the fridge. The pan was now Stuart's problem.
Stuart is a handy guy. We hardly every upgrade to a newer model of anything. He fixes dishwashers, washing machines, food processors... Once when somebody put a huge hole in the bottom of my canister vacuum I was so excited. I'm so tired of this thing! I'll finally get a new one. Surely he can't fix that! Nope. A little fabric coated in epoxy glue did the trick. As good as new.
A few minutes later, the kitchen was filled with a metallic, whirring hum. "This falls under the category of Kids! Don't try this at home!" Stuart called from the sink. He turned off his little brush and walked by me to return his tool, his hair and face covered with black flecks. I brushed him off and sent him on his way and went to inspect his work. The pot glistened on the counter. As good as new. Of course.