If You Loved Me You Would Buy Me a Chef

I could use a prep chef. You know, the one that stands in the kitchen and chops food for all the other chefs? All day? (Dream job? I think not.)

I know you're supposed to keep your fingers safely tucked under your knuckles, but I forget. And I get in a hurry, because who likes chopping vegetables? (Notice my hand is not shooting up, although I have lots of practice from my years as Teacher's Pet.)

I have cut myself while chopping vegetables so many times, I keep a stock of colorful bandaids on hand at all times. Winnie-the-Pooh ones are okay, but its hard to beat Hello Kittys. They breathe.

I cut myself so many times that when I lopped the top of my thumb off a year or so ago, I just put it back in place and bandaged it up tight. I wasn't sure whether it would work or not, but I figured, if it doesn't, who needs the last quarter-inch of your left-hand thumb anyway? I don't play the flute much anymore.

Turns out, it stayed pink and healthy, although a bit bulgy, and it's still there. A little bubble on the tip of my thumb.

There is currently a Pooh bandaid on my left pointy finger.

Yep. Chopping vegetables again. In case you were wondering.