RELATIONSHIPS
		
		The Red Crock-Pot®
		
		By Jacqueline J. Overpeck  
		  Guest Columnist           
		
		 
		 
          CBN.com  
            Can a Crock-pot® add sizzle to your marriage? Maybe so! I  was surprised when the slow cooker turned up the heat on mine. 
          I never thought I’d be one of those women who purchases red  appliances. You’ve seen them on shelves at Williams Sonoma and Target, really  you can’t miss them. There’s the red toaster, red teapot, red frying pan, red  trash can, and yes the red slow cooker. I’ve walked right by them, without  batting an eye, at least a dozen times.  
          What drew me in, on this particular day, I have no idea, but  the attraction was undeniable. I felt like Odysseus in the Odyssey, wooed by the song of the appliance Sirens. The toaster and  teapot crooned in harmony, seeming to say, “We’ve got style, we’re original,  we’ll fill your kitchen with vibrancy.” 
          So, there I was standing in the check out line, with a buggy  full of red countertop appliances, thinking, should I buy this stuff?  
          I reasoned with myself, justifying why each new, red  appliance was not only necessary, but also essential: Our toaster chews up sliced bread, and torches it, creating a whole new  food item – blackened toast. Our teapot spews scolding water as it whistles Dixie – the dog runs not only to escape the piercing  whistle, but also to keep from getting third-degree splatter burns.  
          But, candy apple red? I bit my bottom lip, as I examined the bright frying pan.  
          Oh, why not, I  thought. Live a little, go for the gusto. 
          I stepped forward into the check out line with confidence,  placed the shiny, new appliances on the clerk’s conveyer belt, and lifted my  chin. I’d broken free from the stainless steel stigma so many others find  themselves in.  
          Once out of the store, I loaded the trunk, plopped into the  driver’s seat, and turned up the radio for a glorious ride home. It was a sunny  day and carpe diem now applied to me. Proud of my purchase, I thought, Could a Saturday afternoon of shopping be  any more fun?  
          Little did I know that the transition from basic-white traditional  to Technicolor appliances wouldn’t go over so well with my guy. Who, by the  way, has an uncanny ability to turn sail from the luring voice of the shopping  Sirens. (Men! Such strange beings … what planet did they come from anyway?)   
          I slipped into our house through the side door, trying my  best to quiet the crumpling of my unruly shopping bag. My objective was to set the  appliances out on the countertops, in perfect position, and plugged in --  before my husband entered the room. I knew that he’d feel the same colorful  inspiration as me, if only I could get that crazy, red slow cooker out of its blasted  box.  
          “J,” I heard him call the nick-name he’s given to me.   
          Oh, man. He heard me  come in.  
          “Did you get a chance to pick up the dry-cleaning?” he  asked. 
          Ut-oh. I forgot all  about the dry-cleaning. That’s not good.  
          The drum of his footsteps across the living room’s hardwood  floor meant he was moving in on the kitchen. I straightened my pony tail, looked  up from my shopping bag, and gave an innocent grin.  
          “Hi,” a sweet coo slid off my lips. I stepped in front of  the red trash can, hoping to block it from his view.   
          “What’s for dinn—” he stopped mid-sentence.  
          His eyes locked on the red slow cooker, Vidalia onions, and 3-pound  pot roast setting beside it. Every muscle in his face tightened as-if a Communist  enemy (with a three prong plug) had entered our home. Just then, of course, a  russet potato rolled off the counter and fell to the floor.  
          The jig was up and I knew it.    
          “Oh no—” he insisted. “Please don’t tell me you brought a bunch of red junk home.” He pointed at the  slow cooker with disdain. “You’re kidding about this, right?” 
          I grinned with assurance, trying to bring sunshine to the overcast  sky. “You’re going to love this slow cooker. I promise you are. Give me time to  set everything up.” It was too late, dark war clouds had already moved into our  kitchen.  
          He turned and walked out. I grimaced.  
          I was boiling mad, redder than the new appliances. I washed  a stalk of celery, lost in thought. What’s  wrong with him? I’m not returning this stuff. The kitchen is my space. Every  last red bit of it stays!    
          Five hours later our home was filled with the southern aroma  of fine home cooking. The familiar smell I’d known as a child while visiting my  Great Aunt Carmen and Uncle Clifford’s house now wafted above my kitchen. The  delicious aroma of tender, juicy roast streamed through the entire house,  beckoning those with a hearty appetite to come on in. All I needed was some green  beans to snap and pecan pin-wheels in the oven, and I’d be poster girl for Better Homes and Gardens. 
          I was downright pleased with the homey atmosphere I had  created, but still stewing inside from the disagreement that had taken place earlier  that day. My husband had offended my sense of culinary creativity.  
          I had two choices: 1) Pout silently through the remainder of  the weekend 2) Try and turn the appliance squabble around.  
          I reasoned with the meditation of a sound and focused heart. Surely there’s a way to convince him that  I’m right and he’s wrong. Either way, health experts say simmering over  negative emotions is a no-no, so we’ve got to reach a truce.  
          Given the frustrating fact that my husband doesn’t notice  when I’m pouting half the time anyway, I decided to go with option two—try and  turn the squabble around. My surmise of the situation at hand? When all else  fails, appeal to your guy’s sense of manliness.   
          I headed straight for my computer and began typing. My  keyboard worked industriously along with me, clicking out an up-beat rhythm, as  artistry filled my soul. A few moments later I had created a Manly-Man Menu.  I’d invite my husband to dinner! 
          You are cordially  invited to join me for three delicious 
            Manly-Man Meals 
            Prepared especially  in your honor! 
          Saturday: 
            Hearty Roast with Mega-Man Garden Vegetables 
            Look forward to  tender, thick meat with potatoes and onions! 
          Sunday: 
            Italian Herb  Spaghetti with Savory-Man Meat Sauce 
            Look forward to fresh  thyme, sage, and rosemary … slow cooked and flavor infused, 
            Almost as hot as you! 
          Monday: 
            Garlic Clove Whole  Chicken for a Guy who is the Whole Package 
            Look forward to fall  off the bone meat seeped in healthy garlic! 
            
          I placed the invitation in an envelope and drew a hot pink  heart on the front. I carried it down the hall with the greatest of respect—as if  I were delivering a peace document drawn up by the United Nations. I knocked on  my husband’s home-office door.   
          “Is there a manly-man in there?” I teased as I pushed on the  door, and peeked thorough the open crack. 
          “What are you up to now?” he laughed. 
          “Here. Read this.” I handed over the dinner invitation,  along with a small kiss. “I have no ulterior motive; I just want to have a  pleasant weekend, without a world war  over the color of the slow cooker.” 
          He read the invitation, looked up, and pulled me to his side.  “You’re the best, do you know that?” He shook his head and laughed. 
          It was working! My  plan was working! My heart jumped with victory.  
          “What time does dinner begin?” He asked.  
          “Right now.” I grinned. 
          He got up from his chair, and took my hand. We strolled  following our noses, toward the smell of the juicy pot roast streaming from the  kitchen.  
          June Cleaver and I, nah—we’re nothing alike. But, maybe  those tidy, apron-bowed homemakers from the late 50’s and early 60’s knew a  thing or two? After all, that’s the generation when colored appliances hit the  market big. Apparently June was trendy enough to listen to the song of the  shopping Siren, too!  
          Do you have some fond memories of your loved ones in a colorful  kitchen? Maybe you remember:    
          
            - Pink       and turquoise in the 50’s.
 
            - Avocado       green in the 60’s.
 
            - Harvest       gold and copper tone brown in the 70’s.
 
           
          Fifty years later, the red slow cooker sitting on my kitchen  countertop is proof that a slow cooker (of the woman’s color choice!) is still an  awesome way to keep the home fires burning bright.     
            
          More marriage articles on CBN.com   
           
           Jacqueline Overpeck is a freelance writer and works full  time as Web Content Editor for Benny Hinn Ministries. She and her husband,  Arnold, are both CLASS (Christian Leaders, Authors, and Speakers Services)  graduates. They enjoy the outdoors, and traveling in their spare time with  their Maltese dog, Coconut. For complete recipes to the Manly-Man Meals mentioned  in this article visit Jacqueline at www.AuthorJackieO.com.     
          © 2007, Jacqueline Overpeck. Used by permission. This  material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without the consent of the publisher.  
            
            
		
		  
 
 
CBN IS HERE FOR YOU! 
	Are you seeking answers in life? Are you hurting?  
	Are you facing a difficult situation? 
 
 A caring friend will be there to pray with you in your time of need. 
			
		
		 |