i resemble that remark.

Well, this evening I had dinner with a few friends, mostly as a vehicle for excellent banter and ribbing. Unfortunately, I kinda made it so that I had to receive the brunt of the ribbing. Want to find out why? Good, because here goes:

So we're prepping our meal-- chatting, stirrin' pots, and choppin' stuff. And I'm feeling really happy, and kinda grown up, to be preparing an actual meal with my friends (ie, not just pasta). I'm puzzling over my onion. Because it doesn't seem to want to slice. Try as I might, it just will. not. cooperate. So I'm bearing down with more enthusiasm and vigor...and apparently more stupidity, too, because I am chopping with the wrong end of the knife. So when my finger slips off the handle and onto the top of the blade, it turns out I'm slicing my fingertip open with a very, very sharp knife.

I've got a a few very choice words to say at that moment.

Which of course, gets my cooking buddy to turn around and ask what on earth I've done to myself. I hold up my bloody finger, and he goes running for a first aid kit.

He comes back with a first aid kit, and a helmet, offering to fix up my finger on the condition that I protect myself from further injury from now on.

The rest of our buddies come in to find me with a bandaged finger and a helmet on my head, sipping a glass of apple juice. So of course it's "Who let Christy near the sharp objects?" and "I can't leave you alone for 2 minutes!" and "Three days before an injury--it's gotta be a record!"

And that, friends, is why I love this place. Because the second I start to get a little sad over becoming a "grown up," these folks make me feel like I'm 5 years old again.