Nasty Gravy and the Ugly Cry

Today I got up extra early to sear a roast, slice up potatoes and carrots, and get it all in the oven so it could cook while we were at church. Well, all of that went very well. I was even ready before Preacher Man, which NEVER happens. So we attended church, which for me is crazy hectic since I work in the preschool area and people believe that we don't ACTUALLY need adults to volunteer to keep the children. They really just take care of themselves. [dripping with sarcasm] Anyway, so we made it through church and then had to wait for 45 min after the service while Preacher Man counseled because my husband speaks three languages and is extremely dedicated to what he does [not a bad thing unless you have a roast in the oven]. By the time we left I was a little grumpy/sad. Partly because our pastor told a story about dancing with his little girl, which made me miss my Daddy/cry [who is still alive but lives far away from me] and partly because Preacher Man is so dern dedicated to his job. Preacher Man, however, was in a rather yippy skippy mood and chatted my ears off all the way home. This equaled me being more grumpy.

So, we got home and the house smelled delicious and I thought, "Okay, maybe it didn't burn. Maybe it's a miracle." I opened the oven and pulled out the pot...wrong. Okay, well it didn't exactly burn but there were no more juices left and the potatoes and carrots were stuck to the bottom. You just know looking at such a scene that the roast itself is going to be somewhat lacking. So, I tried to SCRAPE some of the drippings off of the bottom of the pan and combine it with a little flour water in an effort to make some sort of gravy. In order to cover the burnt taste, I had to add A LOT of flour water. So it turned out tasting mostly just like flour. So then I had to add a lot of salt, pepper, and garlic powder, which made it taste like seasoned flour.

As I was doing all of this, I burnt my left thumb on the lid of the pot because I somehow forgot that it was in the oven for 3 hours. "Shit" is what I said. But it wasn't a bad burn, just enough to make me even more grumpy. [Stir, stir, stir] Preacher Man entered and started making the broccoli. I grabbed the handle of the pot with my right hand...same hot pot. Same burn but on my right thumb this time and significantly more painful. "Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIIIIITTT!" is what I yelled this time, holding my burning thumbs up in the air. Then my face got all squinched up and I started to cry. Ugly cry, that is. Still holding my thumbs in the air. Like a double thumbs up. Preacher Man just stood there hugging me...I mean really, what else could he do? I dried it up after a while, ran my thumbs under cold water, and finished the nasty gravy. Preacher Man fixed the rice and the broccoli and we ate our below average roast dinner in silence.

In case you have ever wondered if any one else has these kinds of days.