I like the way Sue makes pot roast. Like a rodeo cowboy wrestling a steer to the ground, she wrangles the raw meat out of the package and plops it into the pot. Then she throws a bag of carrots in there. Why chop something up if you’re going to chew it up anyway? She sprinkles a package of spices and turns it on low. Before long, the house smells like Sunday dinner.
Sue works graveyard shift and I work swing shift, so we don’t get to have dinner together very often. Because I’m at work at dinnertime, my dinners usually consist of whatever I threw together before work; some crackers, a few slices of cheese, cantaloupe, whatever I can find. Sue is usually asleep when normal people eat dinner, so her dinner is in the wee hours of the morning most days. Sometimes I put together something for her to take to work. Otherwise, she will go to 7-Eleven and buy chips and a candy bar for dinner.
Sue cooks two huge pans of dog food every weekend, enough for Lisle, Pete, and Mac for a week. They eat better than we do. They get chicken, gizzards, rice and eggs every day. She holds Lisle’s bowl for her while she eats. She doesn’t hold my plate for me. When Sue comes home from work, she kisses the dogs and pats me on the head.
We had pot roast last weekend and we ate it while watching Count of Monte Cristo on TV. That was an excellent movie and I recommend it. The pot roast as usual, was exquisite. Although last weekend, I think I’m the one who made it. No matter. I like it better when Sue makes it. When Sue makes pot roast, it’s a treat.
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