Crockpot Cooking Story

OK, this is not a recipe. Well, I did put a roast in a crockpot, lightly seasoned and designed to cook slowly all day. But, it's the 'rest of the story' that day recalls.

Before I headed for work, before the children headed off for school, I put the roast in the crockpot to be ready when my parents arrived from out of town. Headed for work, and the OCD bug questioned, "Did you really plug that in?" So I called my trustworthy Neighbor and asked if she would check on that for me. Not a problem!

I forgot to ask her about when she called me back -- to let me know that the city water department was at my house ready to cut the water off for non-payment. Beloved Husband (working out of town that week) had not mailed in the payment. Trustworthy Neighor wrote them a check and my parents never would think we were poverty-stricken, without funds.

Before 4:00 my First Daughter called wanting to know why the roast wasn't done. Panicking, I told her to place it in the pressure cooker and it would be ready for supper. I would leave at 5:00 and be home within 20 minutes. I had to call Neighbor and find out what happened. She asked her husband "Didn't you go over and check Blick's crockpot?" "Yes, and she had left it plugged in so I unplugged it so nothing would burn." How can one complain about someone who wrote a check to the water department?!?

At five I left the office, on one side of the airport and as I got to the back side, a tire went flat. No one for miles around. I was able to get it jacked up and the tire removed, but could not get the right grip to pull the full-sized spare out of the tire well. I tried. Trust me, I tried! First Daughter's vice-principal drove up, recognized the problem and solved it immediately. I was only 45 minutes late.

As I turned into our street, I saw my Dad get out of his car in our driveway. With a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken. Why would he be carrying that into my house, with Son carrying the biscuits?

The safety valve on the pressure cooker blew, molten metal dripping down on the ill-fated roast.

We ate the chicken and enjoyed every bit. Oh, after I spent a few minutes crying the bedroom, of course!