my mother-in-law has gifted me approximately three crock pots in my lifetime. i cringe every time because i really don't like that word.
plus there's that whole cooking thing.
but yesterday i bought some sort of porkish blob at the market, and i wanted it to be spectacular. so i called uncle sugar at work and asked what to do with it. apparently, someone was in his office so he couldn't really run down the ingredients and processes i should use, so he suggested i look up a recipe.
no! i said disgustedly. i want it to be spectacular. something no one's made before.
that might be a good path to follow creatively, karey. he never calls me karey. but you really don't want to invent something new for. tonight's. dinner.
i didn't listen to him. trying to stifle my creativity, that one.
long story short, he fixed my soured grey porkish blob when he came home. turned it into something pretty genius. of course, we ended up eating at 9.30 pm, but the girlies three thought it was sort of an adventure. and they slept well with their full little bellies. and they didn't catch trichinosis.
if i could have a do-over, i might like to be better in the kitchen. i'm pretty much only good at pouring drinks.
i made chili a few weeks ago, and called uncle sugar straight-away to tell him i had cut four fingers - really bloody bad - in the process.
chopping onions? he asked.
no! does he know me? opening all the cans!
he told me never to tell that story in public. i didn't listen to him.