Saturday started out warm and ended with a blaze.
My husband and I got up and went for a walk in the cool spring morning. We enjoyed the luxury of being able to leave our kids at home and stroll along the river, through the bushes, and into ravines. When we got home, we quickly got started on finishing the two walls of our house that we had left to paint. Within two hours we completed the job, wondering why we hadn’t done it earlier.
We left my oldest son at home and went to a BBQ to celebrate my son’s gold medal performance at provincials last weekend. We ate, the kids played basketball, and we enjoyed the conversations that come with a group of adults sitting on a porch on a nice spring day.
After that event we come home, put our house back together and cleaned the rest of the house because we had most of my family coming for dinner after church the next day (23 people).
As I was putting some clothes away my husband says, “What time are we suppose to leave for your work party?”
“6:00pm,” I answer then went on the computer and realized that it is ten to six.
I quickly threw on a dress and boots, and we drove downtown to a fancy event, with ladies dressed in ballroom gowns, and men adorned in fancy suits. We mingled while snatching appetizers off passing servers trays. The evening was uneventful and after eating an appealing meal, we came home at 11:00 to my daughter asleep on the couch and my two boys playing video games.
Knowing I had a house full of people coming, I dragged out my mom’s large crockpot, placed four roasts in it and covered them with onions and BBQ sauce. Simple beef on a bun was on the menu. I struggled a bit to figure out how to get the pot going, but finally after feeling some some heat, I set it 200 degrees, (at least that's what I thought). Being exhausted, I went to bed.
At approximately 3:40am, give or take a minute, I awoke to a burnt smell coming from the kitchen. I threw back the covers, rushed to the source and discovered a room full of smoke, all coming from the crockpot. I pulled it away from the back splash and discovered a brown stain covering two tiles. I grabbed a cloth to wipe it away, but the blazing heat radiated through my thin washcloth and burned the tip of my middle right finger. Right away I ran it under cold water, while trying to unplug the smoky pot with my other hand.
I took the burnt to a crisp roasts out and placed them on a plate, then filled the blacken pan with hot soapy water, all while holding onto a bag full of ice cubes. Then I turned to the tile, still brown, and began scrubbing with my other hand, I rubbed the tile for half an hour using cold water to cool it down and VIM to scrub off the burnt stain. It was so bad that I dug into the grout.
With everything somewhat cleaned, I grabbed more ice, sat in front of the TV holding my ice and watched paid programs for one hour, all the while thinking how am I going to feed 23 people with four burnt roasts.
I worried about it when I finally went to bed and I worried about in the morning as the stench of burnt beef permeated our house. I took out some sliced turkey I had thrown into my cart at Costco the day before, on the off chance that I might need it, but would it be enough. I fretted about the meal not being good, and people not being happy, but in the end everything was fine. I had more than enough food, everyone was well feed and besides a few, I’m bored comments after the cousins left, the dinner was great.
It just goes to prove that sometimes we worry for nothing. We think nothing will work out, but lots of times our worries are for nothing and now I have a story to tell. Albeit, a long one, but still a story. (sorry for the echo of the word nothing)
PS: the pot was actually set at 400 degrees, so if I hadn't woken up I'm pretty sure we would have had a fire.