ONE HUNDRED SIXTY FOUR…don’t give that mom a knife!

There are three categories of people when it comes to watching me chop vegetables for dinner…

  1. Those who can’t turn away because of the wild anticipation of me chopping off a digit and their love of blood
  2. Those who turn away because they can’t stand possibility of the sight of blood
  3. Those who do the faux turn away but still peak anyway at the anticipation of me chopping off a digit and their general ambiguity about the sight of blood

Point is, when you join us for dinner and I am cutting up vegetables, there is a distinct possibility we will be visiting the ER later in the evening. Just be aware of “where” you placed your keys when you enter El Spranger de Casa.

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We have it down to such a science now. Well, Greg does at least. Two nights ago, Greg and I were making fish tacos for dinner. He’s all about prepping and cooking the fish and my job is making my usual fiesta rice medley. I was using my brand new knife set, so they were nice and ridiculously sharp.

I was chopping up onions and cilantro at the time when Abby asked a question and as usual, I looked up at her to answer. And then wham, off came a nice chunk of skin from the top of my thumb. As always my first instinct is to scream…but I’ve had so much practice, I grabbed a paper towel, wrapped it tight around my finger and held it above my head. Greg was swift with the cleaning, healing cream and bandaging. We are like our own little ER.

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I thought I would spare you the disgust of closeup pictures of the gash in my thumb and post pictures that have absolutely no meaning to this post what-so-ever. I’m only thinking of you.

I wonder if, when you take a cooking class, the teachers show you the proper way to use knives. For my safety, I should probably check into that. I thought about doing a video and posting it to YouTube just to see what kind of comments I might get.

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Cecilia is so concerned about my thumb and asks to kiss it every 15 minutes. And no, to those of you who think I might be exposing an open wound to a toddler. I have it tightly wrapped in a curious miniature version of…I don’t quite have the words to describe this incredible little invention.  It is meant for cuts on the finger… and comes in two separate  forms…tubular gauze and tubular *rubber*. You have to place both at the tip of the finger and ***unroll*** the material until your cut is nice and secured. Suffice it to say, it is perfect for my child-like sense of humor. If you’ve ever seen the tubular gauze and you have an equally unsophisticated appreciation for all things socially inappropriate, then most likely you know what I am trying to (non-eloquently) say. If not, then never mind. You are most likely a mature, responsible, Healthy adult… with a normal ADULT sense of humor. And that is all I will allow myself to record on this matter.

    I was so disappointed my friends who are in the 1st category weren’t there to appreciate the near removal of a complete digit. Maybe next time friends! You know who you are!!!

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