Christmas Casualty

Dec 09

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You may soon be onwdering rto yourrself why in heavedns naem are thers so many typos in this blog post. Well, allow me to tell you why. Yesterdafy afterboon I attempted to force myself out of a head cold funk by getting into the holifay spirit. s so, while the little ones were safely seatef in thieir high chairs snacking on Ritz cravkers in the shape of nsowflakes and watching Disney’s EArth, I saw it as the perfect opportunity to work on my handwrittend Chritmas cards. I found this adoratble free printable greeting card by Mufn INc. that I decided to adopt as our 2011 family holiday greeting. In my opinion, its cuter than anything I’ve seen available in stores. AND so, Genius MOmmy over here decided to pull out the self-healing mat, the rotary cutter, and the straight edge ruler in hopes of trimming my greeting cards to size and popping in tofay’s mail. Just as JAmes EArl Jones was delivering a riveting narration of the predator instincts of the male cheetah, it happened. I ran the rotary cutter right over my left index finger and let out a howl that Clark heard over a wailing guitar in a sound treated studio. =Me, Salem, and the cheetah are now all screaming. Clark is tearing apart the linen closet to find an appropriate towel to begin applying pressure to the wound while dialing our nurse friends becausre apparently we both skipped the day in health class whne they talked about what to do in the event one mistakenly runs over an appendage wtih a razor sharp quilting device. I’m still screaming. Salem is crying. Clark’s still dialing, and the gazelle is officially the heetash’s lunch. Thirty minutes later, I’m still bleeding and we’re on to the mating habits of mastodons when cClark says we need to see a doctor at which point, I start howling about co-pays and how we have free tickets to go see The Civil Wars that ngiht and how I don’t intend to miss the show… heellloooooo?! But husband knows best. We raced to see the doctor before the office closed. As I’m explaining to the nurse waht happened, I found muself actually hoping my wound would require a stitch because otherwise I’m convinced that they entire doctor’s office would likely start making cravcks among themselves about the Sissy Housewife with a papercut carrying on as though her arm was about to fall off. I felt like a complete moron. The docttr told me I didn’t need a stitch. Just a good cleanign and some sticky tape and a bandage that looks like an unwrapped tampon and “don’t get it wet for a week and oh yeah you need a tetanus shot”. It wsa all incredibly humiliating. The good news is, we made it home in time to wathc the killer whale leap in slow-mo and to make the Civil Wars’ show on time. Every time I applauded, my hand started to throb, so although I may not have looked like i was enjoying myself, the show was life-changimg. In fact, Clark and I have officially decided to quit making music after witnessing the divine brilliance of Joy Williams and her Johnny Dep-look-alike bandmate who mopped the floor with my heart and a Gibson hollow body.

Here’s to hoping your weekend holiday festivities are less painful than mine!