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crocked pot
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Ain't she a beaut....
What, you say?..."have you taken leave of your senses girlfriend?" Yup, I have ... I am the proud owner of "The Lean, Mean Grilling Machine." She's all mine.
Yesterday I had this incredible urge to shop. I haven't been out shopping since before Christmas and just....needed something... I couldn't put my finger on it...
So, I checked my wallet to see if I had a credit card that didn't have the black stripe literally swiped off it by now. And to my surprise, there was one which still had a faint black stripe on it.
I hopped into the "tank" and set out to do me some "shoppin"... I thought I would save me some time by going to the biggest store I could find...so I ended up at Superstore. You can buy anything here from groceries to whatever your card will hold. The store takes up nearly an acre of land, so I was thinking there should be something in there that I NEED. And, gosh and by golly there was!!
I parked Mr. Tank as far away from the store as I could, because it was Saturday, and there were a trillion people shopping. Parking and the "tank" don't mix. I need a clearance of...say.. twenty feet on each side of me to properly pull in straight in a parking spot.... and I need 1 mile of clearance behind me to back out. Fortunately, there is a large field behind the store and I parked with my ass facing the field...lots of room. Just when I got all nestled in my space and about to leave, a half ton truck pulls in beside me....wellforgodsake!!...he had the whole friggin parking lot to park in...and he pulls in beside ME!! I thought, it would be okay because I could just pull out the other way when I left. I opened the door of the tank, and.. 3..count them 3 large German shepherds started barking there faces off at me. .... I just about pissed myself. The guy had these dogs in the back of his half ton! I jumped back in the tank so fast, that my purse was still hanging out the door. I sat there for a minute, thinking .... shit... Now I'm gonna have to move because I'm not going out there with those dogs looking at me like I was dinner. Just then I noticed the owner was still in his truck, I thought he had already left....so I opened the door and ran behind him just in case the dogs jumped out of the truck. I made it...I guess he saw what I was doing...I am sure I looked like a wild women who had just been chased by wolves, and he said " the dogs wouldn't hurt anyone".....yeah....sure I said "they better not be there when I get out!"... no...I didn't say that, I just mumbled ...ah yeah..nice dogs you have there mister. I stopped for a moment before I went into the store to see what damage I had done to my purse after I'd squeezed it in the door jam. I could broken my credit cards fortheloveofmike!
Finally, it was time. Just me and credit cards...going for a walk. I didn't know on which side of the store to start in...so the electronics dept. seemed like a good place. I mostly just touched everything. I touched a really nice computer. I rubbed up against a huge plasma TV... we were meant to be together, but it didn't fit in my cart! By the way, out of 342 carts I could have picked, I picked one with a wonky wheel. I thought walking through an acre of store would be good exercise, but the cart actually gave me a cardio work out. Next off the Linens and stuff, I touched a lot of them, dug out the colours I liked from the bottom of the pile and put them back in places they didn't belong. After leaving a trail of destruction behind me, I journeyed on to HOUSEWARES....there had to be something here I needed, that I didn't have room for in my cupboards. I had a brief affair with a coffee maker, but couldn't quite make up my mind between that and a cappicino maker. I reasoned, that after all, I had never tasted a cappacino so this might not be the right choice for me, besides it was really big and complicated looking. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Georgie Baby. I "touched" him and Yup, aha, it just felt right! They had him in 2 different sizes small and family sized, and because of the menu I was now planning in my head, called for the BIG one. I loaded this puppy into in my cart. Okay then, now off to go and buy groceries to cook up in my new George Foreman Grill!
I perused the meat counter, and nothing appealed to me, nothing looked good enough for my Georgie. Most of it looked like "road kill" actually. I had two nice fat tenderloins in mind for supper, so I decided to stop off at the butcher shop on the way home and get them there. I wandered around and bought all the steak dinner fixings, baking potatoes, sour cream, a huge Cesar Salad, garlic toast, and fresh mushroom...nothing was too good for George. I would have bought a lobster tail too, but I cheaped out. Way to expensive this time of the year.
When I got back to the "tank", the half ton was gone..pheww all I would have needed is coming out of the store smelling like road kill to make those dogs crazy. I gently put Georgie in the back of the tank. I put him on the back fold out bed, just so he would have a nice smooth ride home.
Next, off to the butcher shop. They had run out of tenderloin steak...^%$$.. so I had to settle for rib eyes....and they were kinda skinny too. But undeterred, I bought them anyway. The lady at the cashier said..."so your having a Barbeque today, it's a little cold for that, isn't it?"... "Oh no I'm not doing it on the barbeque...I'M DOING IT ON MY NEW GEORGE FOREMAN GRILL."..I replied, with my voice an octave higher than usual. She looked at me in a kindly fashion, and said "well, isn't that nice", I have seen them on TV, but I have never bought one. I repeated to her all the wonderful things it could do..."it can cook meat on both sides at the same time...it's such a time saver, everyone should have one of these!!" She handed me my mastercard receipt, and as I left I thought I saw her "smirking." I don't take kindly to "smirking", but I figured she was probably just jealous.
By the time I got home is was almost 5:00 PM, and I unpacked all my groceries and took George out his box, and admired him. I read all the instructions and the cookbook. All set. Gord got home about 6:00, I showed him George, and explained all the wonderful things he could do. I expected a little more enthusium, but he was willing to give it a try. So, we started with the salad while the potatoes baked and the mushrooms fried and the bread broiled. Then it was time for the unveiling, I seasoned the steaks, read the instructions once more... it said 7 minutes would do it. Okay then.
I put the handy dandy little drip tray in front of him, turned on the grill and we waited. At precisely 7 minutes I opened the lid and the steaks looked wonderful. They were both evenly cooked ON EACH TIME SAVING SIDE. We started eating, and I am anxiously looking at Gord to see what he thinks...he takes a few bites, and says "this tastes like rubber"..."whatyamean rubber" 'I say," spitting out my potato. "It tastes like rubber" he repeats..."yeah I know I heard you the first time" "I yell", "but what do you mean by rubber?" He told me to try it, I did, and I told him I thought it tasted much more like an eraser than rubber. We went back and forth for awhile, while he is explaining that erasers are made from rubber....and finally I got up and gave the rest to the dog. We ate the potato, mushrooms, garlic toast and called it a night.
So, George is back in his box, where I hope he has a nice life on the shelves of Superstore.
Goodbye George...see ya pal...
This is a true story... I hardly embellished anything.........and I spent way to much time writing it...........only because my bloody dsl cut out in the middle of the blog I was going to send today...2 hours up my ass...........and it was a good one...much better than this crap ...now I got to start that one over.
This picture was taken sometime in the early 40's. This is my family...goofing off. (and no, they didn't come from Cuba) On top from left to right is my Uncle Frank ... (Luigi Pasquale) as he was known. Next is my Uncle Oscar (Moses was his nickname)...and next to him is my "daddy"...Ed .. he's looking pretty cool, with his hat tilted on one side and his fancy vest.
Bottom row, my Auntie Kay... I never got to meet her, she died of diabetes before I was born. Next to her (the blonde bombshell) is my "MOM"...hamming it up and beside her is my fav Auntie Betty...they are all sisters. Imagine years after that, she gave me shit for wearing my skirts too short...maybe it was my hotpants...whatever!!
They are all standing on the front steps of my Grandma's house in Winnipeg. I have so many wonderful memories of that house. I started thinking today when I posted the pic, how diverse the world was then...and how they all met up with each other. My Uncle Frank was the son of Italian immigrants, who lived up the street from my Grandma's house, my Auntie Betty met him one day after he had thrown a snowball at her on the street. My Uncle Oscar, was an immigrant from Germany and had moved here before the war started with his parents. He met and married my Auntie Anna (who is not in the picture).
My mom and dad were Mennonites from Southern Manitoba. They met in Altona, where my grandma and grandpa used to live before they moved to Winnipeg. Mennonites, Italians and Germans...what a melting pot that was!! We had some crazy times.
Grandma lived in the North End of Winnipeg, where most immigrants settled when they moved to Manitoba. I think there was a different nationality in almost every house down the street. Jews, Poles, Ukranians, Germans, Chinese ...you name it. I think my Grandma and Grandpa were the only Mennonites on the block tho. I remember when the Italian Fruit man would go up and down the streets with his horse and cart selling fruit. There was a "Man" for everything, there was the fruit man, the ice man, the coal man, the policeman, the postman..
Grandma and I spent wonderful summer afternoons sitting on the front veranda talking and eating bing cherries! Grandma had really long grey hair, which she always wore braided and then curled up in a knot in the back of her head. I guess she only washed her hair once a week or so, and if we (my cousins and I) were lucky enough to be visiting at the time of the washing, she would slowly unbraid her long hair, then brush up all the waves... then yell boo! and scare the bejesus out of us...she looked like a Witch!!..we would always beg her to do it over and over again...I guess we liked being scared shitless...sometimes she took out her false teeth to make it even scarier.
My family were the only one's who did not live in the BIG CITY...we lived in Altona a small town about 75 miles away. We were sorta the Beverly Hillbillies of the family!!...What my cousins took for granted living in the city when I was young, was always unbelievable to me when I visited them. There was running water, toilets that flushed, parks, kiddy pools, really big stores, buses, movie theatres, and later TV... the list goes on. In the country we lived without most of that, until the mid 50's. Of course we lived in a Mennonite town where anything "worldly" was usually not well tolerated. My parents however, were not stonch Mennonites, and broke a lot of the traditions. They smoked and drank ocassionaly, and partied some with there friends. But, it was always well known in town, who the good and the bad guys were.
The best times of course in my memories are going to Winnipeg to see Grandma and Grandpa and the cousins aunts and uncles. On a Saturday night after Dad got off work at the Co-op ....we all hopped in the the ole Merc. with the suicide doors and took off to Winnipeg. My brother and I of course had a lot of back seat problems...there was this dividing line...my side..your side...don't cross that line you little bogger! I of course decided my line was a little larger than his...as I was older...but then he was smart enough to realize that didn't matter, size was size...(he was old enough by now that I couldn't bribe him with rabbit shit disguised as black balls anymore)..different blog. So for 75 miles we would be farting around defining our space......until.....Dad put on brakes ...and then Dad's hand comes over to the back waving around... and is yelling...DO YOU KIDS WANT TO GET OUT AND WALK TO WINNIPEG?... oops....aaaah no..."but he started it"...."I don't care who started it ...just stop it"!!!... Okay, already, phewww I not walking to Winnipeg, so we settle down for a few miles by playing "I spy"... I say"I spy" something yellow...Garry( my bro) can't figure it out for miles and miles...and he's telling me I'm faking....and another fight is about to break out, just because he can't get it...finally I have to tell him after he gives up...it's the label on Dad's beer bottle between his legs!!!..yes, Dad always had a beer or two going to Winnipeg. How politically incorrect that would be today....Garry and I would be in some kind of kid's shelter!! Family Services would have just gobbled us up!!.. It was just something that was acceptable in those days...my dad was never drunk...he sipped two beers while driving to the city.....but we live in a different world today..and have probably a thousand more cars on the road to hit now..if we were even impaired.
Just a note on the car...THE MERC...with the suicide doors...some will know what I am talking about, but the youngsters won't..... the back door were flush with the front doors..they were backwards actually...soooooooooooo...if you had a really old car....and were going about 60 miles an hour..which was fast...air would actually push the back door open if they were not secured tightly...and most weren't..if latches were old and worn..and most didn't even have locks... and there was two times I remember going to Winnipeg, that when these door flew open at 60 miles an hour...my brother and I acutally shut the fuck up....while we were pissing our pants... My Dad fixed it though...he welded the back doors shut. I think he wished he could weld our mouths shut too...but he being the nice daddy he was....he just told us again and again...DO YOU WANT TO WALK TO WINNIPEG?...oops...not really... lets play "I spy"...
So, the moral of this story is....a daddy needs two beers going on a road trip with children...