Definition

Bloser (BLOO-zur). n. 1. Blogger who fails to blog for two entire weeks, and actually feels quite apologetic about that, but warns that this is the only mention of that you'll find in this post, as said blogger finds "sorry I haven't posted on my blog" blog posts to be incredibly annoying.

On we go.

Had the husband's extended family over on Saturday for a housewarming barbecue. Overall, it was a successful party, though if you could have peered into my kitchen an hour or two before the guests arrived, you probably wouldn't have predicted a happy ending.

For one thing, I screwed up the homemade ice cream. Instead of gently mixing in the whipping cream AFTER dissolving the sugar in the milk, I dumped all the ingredients in the mixer at once and whipped the shit out of it. Which gives you a nice, big frothy bowl of WHIPPED cream, not the milky liquid you freeze to make ICE cream. So I had to run to the store to purchase all new ingredients.

Then, in the middle of homemade-ice-cream-attempt No. 2, I opened the freezer too quickly and a can of frozen lemonade fell to the floor, the silver cap burst off, and syrupy sweet lemonade concentrate pooled all over the kitchen floor, the cupboards, the stove and my feet. The ensuing F-bomb could be heard two counties away.

And then there were the beans. OH MY GOD, THE BEANS. So here's the thing, when I'm cooking for company, I don't like to do anything from a can, or a microwave, or even a freezer. And I desperately wanted to make my very own homemade beans. So I scoured the internet for hours and found a recipe that got rave reviews called "BBQ beans." On Friday night I excitedly rinsed and sorted my beans (so cool, just like on the prairie!) and Saturday I mixed them into the crock pot with a whole bunch of seasonings, sauces and other ingredients. Four hours later, I closed my eyes, lifted up the lid, and waited for the yummy scent of the broth to waft up and tantalize me.

My nose crinkled. I looked down and saw a glob of the absolute worst-looking food I have ever seen in my life. It looked like vom. And it smelled worse. There were thick pools of red, glistening grease floating on top, and below that were the pound and a half of pinto beans, still hard like little pebbles. I sipped a little bit of the broth from a spoon, and it tasted like ass. I frantically stirred the beans, hoping maybe it just wasn't mixed well enough, but no, it was still just a big disgusting vat of brownish-grey prison food.

So 30 minutes before partytime I decide to blow the whistle on the beans. No way am I serving this. But then I'm like, shit, how do I get rid of this stuff?! It's boiling hot, so I can't very well put it in the trash can. And I'm thinking 14 cups of uncooked pinto beans probably won't mix well with a garbage disposal. And I sure as shit can't leave it out, or Sal's family will see it and know that I'm a miserable failure as a cook, a wife, and a human being. THINK, GODDAMN YOU!! THINK!!!!!

Then it struck me: I slammed two oven mitts on my hands and hoisted the crock out and over to the sink. Then I stuck a colander underneath, where I poured (er, splattered) the contents of the crock. The steaming broth went down the drain and the beans landed in the bowl, and on top of them I dumped two trays of ice cubes and cold running water. After a few minutes, I took the whole slimy mess and double-wrapped it in a garbage bag, which went into the dumpster. I couldn't clean the crock yet, since you can't stick a hot crock in water or it will crack (this, sadly, I know from experience) so I simply wiped off the rim, stuck it back in the crockpot holder and popped on the lid. Voila! It's like the whole thing never happened!

And now I have to go, because -- jesus christ, will this mistake ever end? -- I just realized I forgot to clean the crockpot. Which ought to smell even more appetizing now that it has been sitting in decaying bean crust for three days.