The Great Gravy Incident

I wish I had a picture. Really I do. If I had a picture (which I was actually very tempted to take...) there would not need to be much explaining. Well, maybe that's not entirely true.

Let me start at the very beginning. We and some of our friends in the neighborhood have organized a little dinner group where each of us has a day to cook dinner for everyone else. This has been SUCH a blessing! Three days out of the week, I don't have to make dinner. It just shows up at my doorstep all warm and yummy and ready to eat. It makes me so happy :) Wednesdays are MY day to cook, and boy oh boy was today going to be good! Around 9:30 this morning, I put 4 juicy roasts in to cook. Within an hour my house smelled like heaven! I went about my day as usual until BAM! The power goes out! The only thing I could think was "NOOOOOOOO!" This was around 2:30-ish in the afternoon. I knew the roasts weren't done, and I hadn't even started peeling potatoes. I was worried. I ended up peeling potatoes in the dark while my kids tried to see to do their homework with just the cloud-covered light shining through the kitchen window. Just as I finished peeling my last couple of potatoes the lights came back on. WHEW!!

Well, as luck would have it, I also had to be at the school for Hayden's SEP with his teacher. I called everyone to let them know that dinner would be just a little bit late, but amazingly I was out the door by 5:50 making the deliveries!

As I turned the corner, I heard something tip over in the back, but I was sure that since lids were on bowls, it would not be a problem. However, as I opened up my sliding door to reach in for the goods, there it was. All over the carpet. GRAVY! (Let me assure you, however, that this is NOT the gravy that constituted the "incident.") "Okay, Jen," I thought to myself. "No big deal. I'll deliver the other meals and hurry home and quickly make some more." I knew one of our families wasn't home and I was just supposed to leave their dinner on their counter. I left them a note saying: "I'll be right back with the gravy!"

I calmly walked into my kitchen, put some of the yummy broth from the roast that was left for us into a pot, and started the gravy. It only took a few minutes. MAN it smelled good! I poured it into a bowl, placed the lid on top, and began walking toward the door. Suddenly, the steam from inside forced the lid off and in my surprise at the flying lid, I pretty much THREW the entire bowl of gravy into the air, simultaneously screaming "NOOOOOO!" as I melted into a sobbing heap on the floor.

Here's where the picture would have come in handy. There was basically a sea of gravy right on the floor in front of me, and my kids looked in shock at the splashes of yummy brown goodness that now painted several walls, jackets, backpacks, shoes and the kitchen door. Oh, and my pants were pretty much covered as well. Seriously? Really? Please someone pinch me and wake me from this nightmare!

Dang! No such luck. I quickly (and I mean really quickly) made just one more batch of gravy, mopped a spot that I could walk through and delivered the gravy. By this time the ridiculousness (is that a word) of the situation finally sank in and I started laughing. But I knew what awaited me back at home. The fallout from a gravy bomb. I scrubbed and scrubbed (and managed to melt a pot-holder that I accidentally left on the stove, which I had accidentally left on, filling the house with smoke - but we aren't mentioning that part, right?) The worst part? I hadn't even been able to make any potatoes for my own family. We had roast, with gravy, and a few green beans. I have no more tears left, and I'm still finding gravy in places that I didn't realize even existed. Oh, and I think it's gonna be a long time before I make gravy again.