Photo Credit: Disney/Pixar
I own no rights to this photo.
This is a picture that can be used as wallpaper, so I'm hoping it's fine that I'm using it here too.
I think I have talked before about my lack of cooking skills. I am the 3rd of 4 generations of women who don't cook. My grandmother didn't cook any more than she had to and the same holds true for my aunt. My mom doesn't cook. My cousin and her daughter don't cook and I don't cook. We have all married men that cook, outside of my cousin's daughter because she is only 17 or so. Normally my not cooking isn't a problem because Drew loves to cook. However with him in school my not cooking is becoming more difficult, so I had to do something about it. A few months ago, I found several recipes for the crock pot. Tuesday I printed them out. Drew picked one, I went to the store and got the ingredients, and Wednesday morning I got up and was ready to cook. I pulled out the recipe to see what I needed to do and discovered that we must have picked the hardest recipe. This one called for the ribs to be boiled, then grilled, and THEN put in the slow cooker. I didn't have time for that before work. So like any techy person, I googled a simple recipe. I found one that required salt, pepper, barbecue sauce, pork, and onions. That was it!
I didn't have onions, so I skipped that. On to the next step, rub the meat with salt and pepper. It didn't say how much and I've never done it before. I guessed and then I thought it wasn't enough, so I put on some more. Then I put on the barbecue sauce, turned on low, and left for work. I was pretty excited thinking about the yummy ribs that would be waiting on me. I was excited thinking about how nice it would be to have an easy meal. I dreamed about how yummy it was going to smell. I was all prepared to pat myself on the back. Then I got home.
I walked in the house and it didn't smell yummy. It didn't smell like a whole lot, so I walked closer to the slow cooker. It smelled like something, burnt barbecue sauce. I didn't turn it off and I didn't try to add anything to it. It didn't smell strongly like that. Maybe it was just the sides of the slow cooker that were burning, not the actual ribs. The time came for it to be done, I turned off the slow cooker, and stirred the ribs. It didn't taste awful, so maybe it was okay. I had Drew tasted it and he said it was edible, but tasted like pot roast not barbecue ribs. I tried it again and decided to add something to it, brown sugar. I added a little and then some more and then lots more. It seemed to make it slightly better and less bitter. It helped neutralize all the salty flavor in it. I put some on a plate with some potato chips and ate. Or I tried to eat. It wasn't good, so I added more brown sugar to my plate. I tried to mix the potato chips in with it. Basically, anything I could to get it down. Drew had some and gave some to Abbey. I tossed the rest of it out and felt really bad about the whole thing. I was trying to help him out and make his life easier, but I just managed to gross us out.
Congrats to the great cook and most helpful wife ever! Or not. Not only did I feel yucky form having eaten yucky food, but I also felt yucky from being a massive failure. Drew tried to make me feel better, but I was on a self depreciating sarcastic roll and didn't let his loving comments climb over my wall of self depreciation. We went to church and I had a Mother's Day present from my Prayer Sister. It was a super cute purse and that made stop thinking about how bad I felt. We had a visitor in youth group and two in the younger kids. I directed them where to go and got them settled. That made me fell a little better. Drew started a new thing, Happies and Crappies, that I inspired. That made me feel a little better. We have some pretty awesome youth that got me laughing and of course that made me feel a little better. Then about half way through Drew's lesson about the Temptation of Christ, I realized something. I had somehow wrapped my worth as a wife, mother, human around a slow cooker. And that is stupid!
Photo Credit: citrus.sunshine
Final thoughts: Sometimes traditions are based on facts. The women in my family don't cook for good reason!
Moral: I am more than the product of my slow cooker.
Better post today? 2 photos and 3 links. I think so