Kitchen Safety

[wsw: weak stomach warning - skip this one if you're squeamish]

Friday night was fajita & margarita night at my crash pad (a.k.a. Lisa's awesome condo where I'm squatting). I did most of the prep work early - margarita mix in the freezer, onions and peppers chopped, chicken in a garlic and chili powder marinade, glasses rimmed with lime and salt. Good. To. Go.

I did my makeup while Lisa napped and figured I'd get the condiments ready while she showered. The other day while she was trying to cut up a mango I was telling her about this trick I once saw on a cooking show. With avocados (and I'm assuming other soft-stone-centered-fruit), you run the knife around lengthwise and twist. One half is fine, the other has the stone. You whack the knife into the stone, give it a little twist and - voila - out it comes.

This is what I was trying to do. So I wisely placed the avocado half on the counter and whacked it. I landed in the stone, but the twist just slip the pit and didn't budge it from the fruit. I tried again with the same results. I thought maybe if I stabbed it with the tip of the knife I'd have better luck.

I picked up the avocado - and this is where I went wrong. Before my mind even had time to register how stupid I was to jab a knife at anything in my palm (flash back to fondue with the family when I was little and jabbing the fork through the meat and into my palm), I felt the pain. The knife slipped off the pit and went straight through the avocado, slicing the back of my left hand ring finger and the front of pinkie, just under the knuckle.

Is it bad that one of my first thoughts was, "Well, the margarita will taste even better after the blood loss"?

Here's where my years of lifeguarding experience kicked in:

S%&$. F@#*. Ouch. run to the sink and grab a paper towel.

Do I need to get Lisa out of the shower you take me to the
hospital? NO. Check.

Am I going to faint? NO. Check.

Apply pressure, elevate hand over head. Check.

That's as far as my emergency plan went. I don't know how you know when something needs stitches, and I didn't want to be a baby, plus since the cuts were on my knuckles I wasn't worried about scars. Eventually the bleeding stopped, so the night went on, and the fajitas were delicious.

The good news is that the new knives I bought Lisa are very sharp, a great deal with 4 knives, a pair of kitchen scissors and a cutting board for only $6.99 at the Christmas Tree Shop.

Not my best work

Since I've taken a summer hiatus from my dissertation and all academic work, I'm working a summer job. It feels like being an undergrad again. So Monday - Thursday I hang out with little Ava, an adorable 9-month-old whom I call ma petite poule (my little chicken - her grandmother's French so they are making efforts to raise her bilingual).

Today started out okay. The morning diaper change wasn't too traumatic (she does not enjoy the process, and I have to sing "the itsy-bitsy spider" or "pat-a-cake" non-stop in an attempt to distract her). Morning bottle went down well. She fell asleep in her stroller around 10:40, and I was able to transfer her inside without waking her. So far so good.

Then we hit noon. She actually didn't wake up until 12, which made her morning nap about twice as long as usual. No biggie, except that's where things started to go down hill. Post lunch there was an overwhelming dirty diaper that literally over-flowed. Changed the bottoms and rinsed them out. Now normally I take her for her afternoon stroll/nap around 1:30, but she'd only been awake for 90 minutes. Still, she was getting cranky, so into the stroller we went.

An hour and 15 minutes later she was still awake. At 3pm she's usually waking up, and today she wasn't even pretending she was going to nap. Now I'm concerned she's getting hungry, so we go home to grab another bottle. She's sipping on it and holding it herself, so I just pushed her up and down the street with a blanket draped over the top of her stroller, hoping she'd nod off. All of a sudden I see milk dripping down past her feet. Little miss Ava pushed the nipple into her bottle, spilling about 4 oz of milk all over her and her stroller.

Inside we go. Strip the baby. Wipe out stroller seat, press with paper towels in an attempt to dry. Keep one eye on baby to make sure she's playing nice with the cat (Doucement. Il faut pas tirer la queue! Le vent et le dos, comme ou tu aimes etre touche. Gentle. We musn't pull the cat's tail. Tummy and back, just like where you like to be rubbed.) Rinse clothes to get out milk and add to laundry pile I've created in the back hall (Welcome home, mom, I left you chores!). Take naked baby upstairs to change her diaper, give her a quick wipe-down with the baby wipes, and put on a new outfit. Now it's 4pm and she still hasn't napped, but I can't put her back in the stroller because her seat is still damp.

I give myself a C- for the day. I didn't cause her any bodily harm, and she didn't get hurt on my watch (bumps and bruises are a normal part of learning to walk, but it doesn't mean I don't feel guilty when she falls over). Her mom is great and had a good laugh with me over the day, but I'm feeling ever so slightly defeated.

Worry not, little one, tomorrow I'm bringing my A game. I've got an overnight date with Kayley Saturday and need a good warm-up.

Happy Birthday, Kayley!

Summer has officially begun as Kayley turns one. Steph and Scott did a fantastic job throwing her b-day bash, and little K learned a hard lesson that beauty takes priority over comfort (the dress made it difficult for her to crawl, but she looked damn cute).




Stephanie's cake decorating classes have clearly paid off:



It's weird, she's gotten all Martha Stewart and shit since becoming a mom.

Grammy and Grampy made it for the occasion, although I had to tell Helen I'd give her $.25 to take a picture with me.



"Make it $0.26!" she's saying. (No seriously, that's what she said.)


The party also gave me a chance to catch up with some of Steph's awesome friends - and avid Shoe Addict readers ("hi" Melissa, Jen, & Meghan!). Some characters were noticeably missing - I mean you, Miss Amanda! - including Meghan's husband, Doug, who apparently partied too hard with the neighbors last night. Hey Doug! Bet you didn't think you'd get called out on my blog, did you? Have fun waking up with James at 4:45 AM this week!


The highlight of the day and of being back on the east coast is, of course, my little niece. She's just so beautiful and fun and giggly and awesome. I'm so happy I get to be here to hang out with her! Congratulations, big girl, I can't wait to see what the next year brings for you.



She's got a little Suri Cruise look going on, no? But cuter, of course. And with a less crazy dad.

Father's Day recap

Yesterday my parents and I brought cold cuts and sandwich fixin's over to my grandparents' house for a nice, quiet Father's Day lunch. Grampy was in good spirits, despite the fact that he's really starting to lose his memory and it's pissing the hell out of him, and discussed golf and real estate with my father. It was Grammy, however, who stole the show. Highlights included:

• When I asked her what she wanted to drink - water, juice, milk - and she responded by slamming her hand on the table and yelling, "Water, straight up!"
• When she asked me if I needed an apron as we were laying the deli meets out on a plate.
• When she asked me, "Have you seen the rest of the house?" I just gave her a big hug and told her I'd been coming there for almost 28 years and that, yes, I had seen the rest of the house. We both had a good laugh.

Then towards the end of the visit my grandmother walked me into the sunroom so we could look at the neighbor's house as she told me stories:

Mrs. Z was a very nice woman. (Later in life, Mrs. Z would ask my grandmother to be her "sister," since she had lost her real sister and Grammy had lost her brother. Grammy was very honored and accepted, of course.) But that Mr. Z! Every morning Bob (my grandfather) would walk out and say, "good morning, sir," and that man would just turn up his nose. That man was a big S-H-I-T!

This floored me. I have never, in my whole life, heard Grammy swear.

"Helen!" I exclaimed. "Watch your language!"

"I know," she said, "that's why I spelled it!"

In the car I retold the story to my parents. "Did they ever swear in front of you growing up?" I asked me dad. "No," he said, "and the only time I've ever heard my mother swear is when she talks about that guy."

And that was the afternoon. So a Happy (belated) Father's Day to all the dads out there, and to you, Mr. Z. You've been dead a long time, but you clearly made quite an impression on my grammy, and your memory lives on in her.

Thoughts on Boston

• If you've never lived here, you really can't understand what it's like for it to be 50 degrees, raw and wet one day and 90 degrees, hot and humid the next.
• On that note, this is not a climate for people with naturally curly hair. There's only so much even the best of hair products can achieve. Honest, the bank clock says it's 103, and even my hair looks like it hurts.
• I've never seen it snow pollen before. Got Claritin?
• Where do the taxes go? Why do I feel like the roads in Kabul are better than the ones here?
• Drivers, you're not doing anything to dispell stereotypes of Massholes.
• Cobblestones and high heels don't mix. Who put all the bars in Fanueil Hall?
• Could we employ some people to make street signs? Seriously, I drove cross-country with the free maps AAA gives you, and the only city I got a tad lost in was Austin, TX, and even then for about 5 min. I know I've never lived in Boston proper, but I did grow up in the area and still can't find my way around for the life of me. Maybe we should have straightened out some of the old cow paths before paving them. Ever heard of urban planning? And if you're an out-of-towner, you are completely shit-out-of-luck.
• The genius thing about rotaries is that if you miss your exit, you can just do another lap.
• New cars on the green line with a/c might be the greatest thing to happen to Boston since Sam Adams.
• The T is $2 and a Sam Summer draft is $5.50, but the bars are still only open til 2 and public transport stops at 12. You want to be like NYC, or you don't. Make a decision.
• I'm all for a good "Yankees suck" cheer, but do we have to do it every night, at every bar, even when there's no game on?
• Is there a single bar/restaurant/pub/tavern in the city that does not have Journey on the jukebox?
• I know I'm home when everyone's wearing their Sox jerseys. Out. We're talking weekend nights. Even when there's no game.
• I'm now supposed to care about the basketball, too?

Thoughts on driving

• If you don't want to drive the speed limit, that's fine, but please don't sit in the left hand lane, especially on a 2 lane highway. Why make it your personal mission to make me drive 10-15mph slower than I would like?
• If I'm in the left lane, and you come speeding up behind me like some wannabe Nascar star, give me 7 seconds to move over instead of passing me on the right.
• The vast majority of the time, it is not necessary to come to a complete stop before taking a right hand turn.
• Likewise, if you're at a 4-way intersection with a 2-way stop sign, it is rarely necessary for you to come to a complete stop when YOU HAVE THE RIGHT OF WAY.
• When you throw your car into reverse, LOOK.
• You're called Massholes for a reason. What is considered "tailgating" in most places is taken to a whole new level. Honestly, I feel like I'm getting an automotive colonoscopy. What's the proctology report back there?
• If, in a moment of kindness, I left you merge ahead of me/ take your left-hand turn/ pull out of the Dunkin Donuts parking lot, give me the high sign. Just hold your hand up - it's not that hard.
• Pedestrians, if I let you cross the street even though you're not in a cross walk, please don't take your sweet ass time sauntering over to the other side of the street. You don't need to sprint, but please do continue at a reasonable pace.
• Drivers, if there's a pedestrian in a cross-walk I have to stop. It's the law. You're also a jerk if you don't. Especially when it's a kid with a backpack on a rainy day or some elderly ladies coming out of church. Honk one more time and I'll throw this car into reverse without looking. You're always more than 50% at fault for a rear-ender.

These are my people

I wish I had something nice enough to put on this website (I'm keeping the stand mixer):

Be sure to check out the "gifts that should have been jewelry" section (my friend has a pine cone - yes, you read that correctly, a pine cone - that should go in that), and the "Good Karma Fund" where you can donate to the Susan Komen Foundation.

Razor craze

I'm trying to settle back into a somewhat normal routine and do things I've been putting off like, oh, ...say, shave my legs. So I was getting ready for a shower the other day and went to get my razor (I had used disposables on my trip and was all out). I found the stick part of a Gillette Mach-3 razor, but no blades. I found a package of 4 blades for a Venus razor, but no stick. Go figure. I suppose I could have just held the replacement blade between my fingers, but my legs are already unsightly enough with bruises from various run-ins with furniture and, a particularly nasty one, the lawn mower, so I decided to wait. I'd already passed the prickly stubble phase and moved into the soft shag phase, and no one's seeing them but me.

I stopped in the supermarket to pick up a few things and went into the personal care aisle. Now, first of all, razors are so unreasonably expensive - it pisses me off to have to buy anything. After staring at the selection for a minute or so and cursing the cost under my breath, I decided to get a new Venus because it was cheaper than the blades for the Mach. Of course I have to go with the newest model of the Venus, and here she is:

5 blades! Count them - 5! For the love of god! It looks like a cheese grater.