Oops, I Did it Again . . .

Oops, I did it again!  A few nights ago, I was slicing a green onion with my brand-new-uber-sharp lime green little paring knife and running my mouth a-mile-a-minute, when I forgot where the onion ended and the tips of my fingers began, and sliced the end of my thumb to the bone.  (Was that not the longest sentence in the world?  I may contact the Guinness people.  No, not the beer, the world record peeps.)

Well, probably not to the bone, but to a grade-A type-A personality like mine, it was pretty darn close.  I jumped.  I squealed.  I bit my lip.  Tears escaped my tightly closed eyes.  I prayed.  I dared open an eye – just a squint, mind you – to see if my thumb was completely gone. Daughter #3 googled “When to Get Stitches” and hubby #1 (and only) offered a prayer and to take over the cooking!  Wait, am I terminal?  Not unless we could see the yellow (I call chicken fat) stuff oozing out, according to Google.  Whew, I was safe, but bleeding like a stuck pig.  It took two band aids and a laying-on-of-hands to halt the spewing of blood.  OK, maybe spewing is a little, well, melodramatic.

What is it with me and my thumbs?  Am I secretly trying to rid myself of them?  I’ve sliced them and diced them.  I’ve torched and scorched them.

That decades-ago skiing trip comes to mind.  I was a virgin – SKIER – get your mind out of that gutter.  I had always been just a watcher and not a doer, so I took ski lessons.  I took lessons with five 17 year old super-models (maybe not, but they could certainly qualify).  I was barely 30.  In model years, that means I was, roughly, 92.  The ski instructor seemed to be about 15 20. Can you guess who he wanted to show out for?

We were supposed to stay on the bunny slope, while daughter #3, then about six years old, dare-devil that she is was, worked her way up to the black diamond slope.  Be still my heart.

Oops, I Did it Again!

Our instructor, who obviously thought we were trying out for the Olympics, decided to take us up to a wee-bit more difficult ski slope. And just like humpty dumpty, we all came tumbling down.  All of the super models . . . and me. I saw stars.  I saw white – oh, that was the snow.  And I saw red – blood red.  I thought my thumb was severed.  It was only buried in the snow.  I had (God only knows how) cut my thumb with my skis during my tumble down that mountain.  Yep.  That’s me.  My delusional ski instructor tried to make me get back on the ski lift.  I profusely and flatly refused until they had to send a snowmobile for me.  I was whisked away to the infirmary.  I have the scar to prove it.

I still go on the occasional ski trip.  I buy the cutest, coolest ski wear possible and I look so trendy, chic and happening as I sit in the cozy ski lodge, feet propped up on an ottoman, sipping on hot cocoa, reading a good mystery and watching that bunny slope with a twisted little smile on my face.  I’ve been there.  I’ve done that.  And I’m never going back.  And my thumbs thank me for it.

 

 

 

About Alli

Southern, Morning Person, Jesus Girl, Frugal Party Planner, Writer/Blogger, Mom, Nana, Wife, Beach Bum Wannabe - Let's Have a Party!

Comments

  1. LOL! Cutting your thumb with skis is seriously impressive! Stopping by from SITS. 🙂

  2. I’ve cut my thumb twice in the past week…with my own fingernail…while putting on tights! Certainly not as painful, but pretty embarrassing!!

  3. I love that! I love the twisted smile! I agree whole heartedly with the ‘not for me, thanks, but I don’t mind watching you fluff!’ approach… oh… that was all mine… Alright… I agree with the cocoa/ hot chocolate.

  4. Rebekah Price says

    Like mother, like daughter! We don’t ski! lol

  5. Ooh, yikes! I have various little scars from accidentally maiming myself (sometimes I feel like a walking disaster…)

  6. Lady I am totally with you on the skiing. I went when I was 10 years old and ski’ed straight into a table and never looked back. I’m happy with some hot chocolate by the fire reading a good book and waiting for the husband to come back.

    Stopping by from SITS

  7. Haha, this made me laugh (only because you’re better now). Cutting your thumb on skis is pretty impressive. My brother-in-law cut his foot on a snapping turtle and loves to tell the story.
    Stopping by from SITS!

  8. {Melinda} I have skied twice in my life and both time were humiliating and disastrous. Seriously, the second time, my ski instructor gave up on me. But I can rock some cute ski clothes, too. That has to count for something. 🙂

    Found you on SITS!

    • And having to sign that Ski Disclaimer that pretty much says “If I die, I won’t blame the ski resort” should have had me turning around and running the other way! 🙂

  9. Ouchies!! This is why my hubby doesn’t allow me to cook if it involved cutting things lol

  10. It’s always the thumb right?! Glad you aren’t terminal! I cut my thumb right after saying I KNEW how to cut the onion. I was wrong!

    • I have not touched that one little lime green knife since it attacked my thumb! I shudder every time I spy it in the back of the knife drawer! 🙂

  11. Ouch!!!! Hope it feels better soon. I hate kitchen accidents, it’s so easy to hurt one’s self!

    • I hate cuts, burns and scratches. When I watch Chopped, I’m amazed at how they stick their fingers down in a frying pan and turn the food with their hands! Double ouch!

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