Really, it’s not that kind of “sexy.” Actually, it might even be crazy sexy. And while “crazy sexy” might lead you to believe this blog is going to be R-rated, it’s really only SA-rated, where SA stands for small appliance.
As some of you may have read, the technical support group in my company hosts beer o’clock every Friday at 4:30. Along the way, I decided that a bag of potato chips, cheese doodles, and Doritos did not a beer feast make; for the guys, it worked, but it didn't for the lone chick. So, I decided it was time to expand my culinary skills and make a tasty appetizer every Friday; thus, this is how I became a crock pot goddess.
For the past few months, every Thursday night, I stand in my kitchen for an hour or so chopping and measuring while Monty sits practically on my feet hoping for any scraps be they vegetables or meat; he’s not fussy, given he’s practiced the fine art of Coprophagia every now and then. (Jeez, I never knew it had a name!) Like a witch in Macbeth, I then peer over my cauldron (a.k.a. crock pot) and toss everything in.
If I were really crazy, I’d probably throw in a chant, too; however, I’m not crazy. Okay, maybe I am. So here’s my chant.
Double, double sausage and pepper, plug you in, and crock pot simmer.
And, if I truly were a lunatic, you might then hear me cackle.
Anyway, the only downside to being a crock pot goddess was my equipment. When I first got my crock pot, I didn’t expect to be an advanced goddess with it. I only ever expected to be a novice and pull it out once a year when I wanted to remind myself of my Mom in the kitchen in the 1970s.
My crock pot has three different sized bowls (2, 4, and 6 quarts) which was nifty. It did lack a timer. So, on nights, like last night, when I stepped away from the cauldron at 8pm and the potion had to cook for 5 hours, I remained up until 1am to see that my culinary spell would be cast.
I began to ponder a new cauldron with a timer. Though I felt guilty when I had a perfectly good crock pot, but not so guilty, because I wanted to get at least 7 hours of sleep each night. So, the new crock pot thought simmered on low in the right side of my brain, which I’m pretty sure looked like sausages and peppers by now.
Anyway, I had to go to Kohl’s last weekend to buy some jeans for Nathan. While wandering around the store, the new crock pot thought was stoked up to high. I found my way to the small appliances and searched through the waffle makers, mixers, and rice cookers to find the crock pots.
I saw a few that were similar to mine. But, then I saw it. It was black, sported a lovely timer, and it was 7-quarts, bigger than any crock pot I had ever seen.* Taking it all in in an instant, I heard a loud voice say, “Wow, that’s sexy!!!”
*In this case, size did matter, because I usually doubled most of my recipes, because I had 15 hungry engineers to feed most Fridays.
I looked to my left, to my right, and then behind me to see who had called a crock pot sexy; alas, there was no one standing there with me. Horrified, I said, “Oh, my gosh! I just called that crock pot sexy!” I had a mini mid-life crisis right then and there there in the small appliance department of Kohl’s. How had I gone from George-Clooney-is-sexy to Crock-pot-is-sexy?!?!
When I was in my early 20s, I remember working with an engineer on a project; his name was Steve. He was very smart and always a great help to me when I was writing the documentation. One day, he was showing a new system to me; he stood there looking at it like he was looking at beautiful woman and then said, ‘It’s so sexy!!!”
I asked myself, “Did he just call a computer sexy?” I just nodded and said, “Uh-huh.” Back then, only men were sexy to me. After leaving Steve alone with his "woman," I thought naively, “A box of metal is not sexy and never will be!”
I then went into immediate recovery and self-analysis mode in the small appliance department at Kohl's. "Do you still think George Clooney is sexy?” Yes. I looked at the crock pot again. "Do you still think the crock pot is sexy?" Err, um. Oh, know! Yes!!!
I stepped away from the crock pot. While I really wanted to buy it, I had to think about it; it wasn’t the price that deterred me. It was the fact that I thought I might now be content to spend Thursday night with a sexy crock pot instead of a sexy man.
As I drove home, I began to laugh. I said, “I can't believe that I said that a crock pot was sexy.” And it still was; as I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that my perspective has changed. Things that didn’t appeal to me before like cooking (I was always a baker) had now become passions. Could your passions whether inanimate or animate be sexy? I do believe they can, and I look forward to tomorrow when I will purchase my new and very sexy crock pot, which I will name George. ♥
Happy weekend, everyone! ♥
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