Did you know I cook?
I know, sounds dangerous, right? A klutz cooking.
It apparently is.
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Attempting to impress my beau (D.E.), I decided to whip up a fancy white bean puree to go with my salmon and spinach dinner.
At first, all was going well. I even managed to use my Cuisinart specialty blade for the first time to chop my veggies up in to little squares without hurting myself on the blade, despite the “I’ll cut you, bitch!” warning sticker.
Yes, that is a box of Franzia in my kitchen. No, you may not have it, I need it for mulled wine.
Perfectly chopped, blood-free veggies.
But, as usual, pride comes before the fall, or in this case, the slash. Reaching into the recently opened can to pull out some stingy white beans stuck to the bottom, my right middle finger decided to make friends with the sharp blade.
Turns out, that can wasn’t as friendly my finger thought it was, because it sliced me all the way down to my knuckle bone.
The unfriendly culprit. That’s what I get for buying organic.
Looking at the wound for as little as possible, I immediately pinched my finger tightly and ran to the bathroom for my first aid kit, a must-have in a klutz’s house.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t open the zipper while still applying pressure to my wound, so I had to call in back-up. Luckily, my beau lives only three blocks away and was kind enough to bring me both Neosporin and chicken broth, both of which I needed to finish my cooking.
My fabulous beau even stayed and helped chop, sauté and perfect the romantic dinner that was supposed to be my treat to D.E.
As I held my hand over my head to help stop the bleeding long enough to put a band-aid on my poor little finger, I warned D.E. – who is a new but welcomed addition to my life – that this is what dating me would be like: constant blood and klutz.
Ze* just smiled, kissed me and suggested I get a picture of how ridiculous I looked cooking with my hand over my head for this blog.
Yeaup. Ze’s a keeper.
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