Monday, September 29, 2008

Ode - To My Crockpot

Oh, Crockpot.
Your simmering ways.
How you bubble and stew while the
world spins, unaware of
what you conjure inwardly.

Oh, Crockpot.
You wear the apron
when I am sick and sniffling,
keeping my husband from
having to cook
two days in a row.

Oh, Crockpot.
You lure the dogs into thinking
that it's for them, and we laugh,
knowing that it's not.
It's for us.

Oh, Crockpot.
You clean up so nice and bright, so
I don't even have to use the dreaded
scouring pad.

Oh, Crockpot.
I'd love you even if you hadn't come with
a little red mini Dipper -
but you did. Don't worry, I won't
forget it.

Oh, Crockpot.
You're the best twenty-eight dollars
I've ever spent at Wal-Mart. How
could a kitchen ever live without you?
You're the chef, we just turn your dial.

Oh, Crockpot.
You fed us yesterday and then again today,
when I had roast leftovers for lunch.
You silly Crockpot. You just can't give
enough - and we'll never forget it, or that
weird time you batted your eyes at us
and we had to remind you that we're just friends.

Oh, Crockpot.
You came into our kitchen with your settings of
high, low, and "warm," and we knew our days
would never
be the same.

Oh, Crockpot.
May you and I never part.
Love is not love which alters when it
crockpot roast doth find, nor bends with the
remover to remove (the roast): oh no, it is
an ever-fixed mark on high, because I never
put the roast in early enough to warrant switching you
to low.

p.s. yes, I'm still sick and highly medicated. What's your point?


Unknown said...

Did you just write an ode to your slow cooker? You know, that inanimate piece of crockery?

I could've sworn that you did, but surely I was mistaken.

Becky Carter said...

I hope you are feeling better soon! Should we reserve a hotel for Sat. just in case? ;-)

Bob said...

hmmmm....methinks I remember an "Ode to a Grecian Urn". So, writing a poem to a piece of crockery isn't new.

I hope you aren't sick much longer Sissy.

Carrie said...

I like the ode to your crockpot and I understand your sentiments.

On those day when I come home weary and worn from a long day at work, I smell the crockpot doing my job and I just want to hug it (except I don't, lest I burn myself).