Mamas, don't let your girlies take woodshop

I blame the radial arm saw.

When I was growing up on the little pseudo-farm, my Dad had lots of power tools. Planers, hand held sanders, drills. And the radial arm saw. Radial arm saws are cool. You can do tons of things with them (wood cutting wise) and they eat fingertips (that's another story in itself.)

At my High School on Vashon, you had to take either Home Ec or Woodshop. I wanted to use the power tools therefore I took Woodshop. I made a solid oak breadbox that was the wrong shape for bread and a variety of other bits of cut and stained wood structures that I can't remember now. I used how to use the drill press, the table saw, and yes, the holy grail... the radial arm monster. I would come home from school in collage and build planter boxes.

So, what does this have to do with anything? Everything. Because I didn't take Home Ec.

My mom tried to make up for it. I took a sewing class from the local fabric store. I made a dress that didn't fit me by the time I finished it. I can't make a pattern, I can't hem... hell, I can barely sew on a button.

I find my greatest challanges in the kitchen, however.

I've tried ways to compensate. I buy cookbooks, I buy gadgets. Sometimes I am successful. And sometimes I know when things are done because the smoke detector goes off.

But you know why I really feel like a complete gomer? I cannot use a crockpot. A CROCKPOT! I know what you're thinking... "Anyone can use a crockpot! You just put the food in, turn it on and later you have a meal. What could be more basic?" Yes, I know the theory.

I understand the concept. It's like toast.. you put bread in the toaster and push a button and it's magically transformed into crispy goodness. But I have yet to create something tasty from a crockpot. In extreme cases, I cannot produce EDIBLE foodstuffs from said cooker.

Here is an example.

Football season means parties. Parties in my circle of friends means everyone brings something snacky. I thought that I could make those little smokey sausages in bbq sauce. I thought I could use the crockpot. I thought wrong.

About 9 pm, I added about a half gallon of bbq sauce to the 4 lbs of little smokeys that I'd crammed into the crockpot. I thought to myself - "hmmmm, these could take a while to warm up, I should turn them on now. " I know what you're thinking at this point... yes, I turned them on low. Turning them on high would have just been foolish - how dumb do you REALLY think I am?

So, a couple of hours later I go to bed. I wake up to the lush smell of warm bbq sauce, smiling at my ability to plan ahead. I walk into the kitchen, look at my counter and realize that Houston, we've had a problem. While I was sleeping, the weiners had gone through the multiple stages of becoming non-edible food product. Apparently the crockpot cooks things. And 12 hours of "warm" will transform 4 lbs of little smokeys into a mass of shrivelled little black nubbins and puffed up exploded grease granades. For the record... little smokeys plump when you cook them. Just so you know. They plump the lid off the crockpot and try to escape across your countertop, leaving little bbq scented slug trails. If they can't go on walkabout, they shrivel into themselves like something from Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Nothing in that pot was something that you would serve to people. It was probably biohazard. I threw it all away. I took a cream cheese/crab/cocktail sauce combo instead. People loved it. It was not burnt to a crisp nor shrivelled into some new strange form of life form.

You should remember this when you invite me over. I can't make little smokeys... but I can make you a planter box. I'll just need to use your radial arm saw. It's okay, I'm trained.