My sister Irene gave me a new Crock-Pot for Christmas, or “slow cooker” as they’re calling it nowadays. What a great little rig! Listen, I can throw a bunch of stuff into it before I leave for work, and when I get home, the place smells wonderful. Like my personal chef has been slavin’ away all day preparing a delicious, nutritious meal for me. Basically, I get to experience what Charlie’s been comin’ home to for the last forty years!

The Crock-Pot’s especially good if you’re trying to watch your weight, like I am right now. Number one, you don’t have to add any oil or nothing. And number two, things are ready when you walk in the door, so you’re not temped to nibble while you’re cooking. All you have to do is set the table and you’re good to go. It’s like magic! (I know, sounds like a commercial, but it’s true.)

Crock-Pots are real popular in our neck of the woods as you can imagine, especially during the winter months. So I wasn’t surprised this week when I picked up my sister Irene to go to our book group, and she came out carrying her own Crock-Pot. I popped the trunk and she put hers beside mine.

“What’d you make?” she asks.

“Chili with ground turkey,” I reply.

“How many points?” (See, we’re both doin’ Weight Watchers, so it’s all about the points.)

“Six, for a cup and a half,” I says. “How ‘bout you?”

“Vegetarian baked beans. Five points.”

“Well, then, there’s two things we can eat, anyways.”

“Just do me a favor, Ida, and keep me away from the deserts. I’ve decided to use some of my extra points on one sweet, but that’s it.”

“Me, too. Thank God for those extra points.”

“Amen!”

So off we go to Donna Gerard’s, across town. The thing is, having a slow cooker on board (make that two slow cookers) means you have to be a slow driver, being real careful going ‘round corners, avoiding potholes and such. All of a sudden, I look in the mirror, and someone’s on my tail.

“Reeny,” I says, “you know what I need? A bumper sticker that reads ‘Crock-Pot on board.’”

“Good idea,” she replies. Then, after thinking it over, “Problem is, if you looked quick, you might think it said ‘Crackpot on board!’”

With that we go into hysterics, right?

Well, we arrive at Donna’s without incident, and park on the street, so we don’t get blocked in. The Gerards have a fairly long driveway. So we get our Crock-Pots out of the trunk and lug ‘em up to the house. Easier said than done, ‘cause I’ll tell you what, a full Crock-Pot is pretty darn heavy.

Irene goes, “This is my upper body workout for today. You think I can count this as an activity point?”

“Only if you carry that slow cooker ‘round the block!”

“Ida, don’t get me going, or I’m gonna spill it!”

So we walk into the house, and swear to God, it’s a crock pot convention! I mean, it looked like the appliance department at Sears. We squeeze our crock pots onto what’s left of the counter, and are just wondering where we’re going to plug ‘em in when Donna comes ‘round the corner with one of them mega-power strip and an industrial strength extension cord.

“Gees, Louise,” I says, “I hope we don’t blow a fuse!”

Well, of course, no one had read this month’s book, but we talked about why we didn’t and discussed which book we’re going to buy and not read next month. Happily, the crockpots were lighter leaving than coming in.

One the way home, I says to Irene, “Did you have a good time tonight?”

“Sure. Didn’t I look like it?”

“Well, I noticed you kept drifting off into the corner every now and then.”

“Oh, Ida, you caught me. I didn’t want to go crazy overeating at the potluck. So, I made the mistake of eating one of them Fiber One bars.”

“You didn’t!”

“I did. The new brownie flavor. And it tasted so good.”

“What else did you eat?”

“My beans and the chili.”

“Oh, mister man, we’re talking trouble with a capital ‘T.’”

“Ida, no sooner did we get talkin’ about the book then my stomach started blowing up. No exaggerating, I felt like a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day balloon. That’s what you saw, me sneaking off, hoping no one would come near me, so I could let out a little air.”

“Crack the window a tad, will you, dear. Listen I’ve made the same mistake with that Fiber One. They’re a prescription for disaster.”

“Tell me about it!” Irene chuckles.

“On second thought, Reeny, why don’t you roil that window all the way down.”

That’s it for now. Catch you on the flip side!

Listen to the podcast here.

The views expressed on this Web site are those of the authors alone and do not necessarily represent the views of Down East Enterprise or its employees.