One
sentence:
Cabbage shouldn’t have a
streak of red in it.
One
paragraph:
I was shredding cabbage
with a serrated knife to freeze for soup. There was a towel under the head and
I was having a great time watching a movie and cutting up vegetables. All of a
sudden there is a sharp pain in my hand. I had sliced open my finger. Ow, Ow, Ow, that hurts so much. Dang it,
dang it dang it. Tears started to well up as I covered the wound in the
part of the towel that had been hanging over the edge and hobbled to the
bathroom to run water over it so I could see the damage.
Scene
I had gone this morning
to pick up my “Bountiful Basket”. A basket filled with half fruits and half
vegetables. You never knew exactly what you were going to get, just half and half.
This time there were carrots, cabbage, lettuce, grape tomatoes, apples, pears, and
bananas. The tomatoes were dropped off at a friend’s house before she even got
home. Now it was time to prep everything else for storage. I peeled and chopped
the apples and pears to put in the freezer to use later for baking or
smoothies. The bananas were put in a paper bag on the cupboard to ripen. The carrots
and lettuce were cleaned and stored in the refrigerator. Now, to deal with the
cabbage.
Who needs this much cabbage? Well, I guess shred it and freeze it for
soup. I got out a towel to put over the table, and grabbed a knife to do the job.
Dang, all the smooth blades are in the sink
to be washed. Serrated it is.
Now,
how to start this? I guess I will cut out the end and just go for it. I
began, cutting the head of cabbage into quarters to make it more manageable,
then beginning to shred one quarter of it. All of a sudden there is a sharp
pain in my hand. I had sliced open my finger. Ow, Ow, Ow, that hurts so much. Dang it, dang it dang it. Tears
started to well up as I covered the wound in the part of the towel that had
been hanging over the edge and hobbled to the bathroom to run water over it so
I could see the damage.
Damn, does that need
stitches? I don’t know if it needs stitches. Who would know? I feel so stupid,
but I guess I’ll call Mom. I dialed the phone, it rang and rang, no answer.
Shoot, okay, Stacy, she is a first responder at work, she should know. Dial
again, “Hey, what’s up?” She sounds
sleepy, Did I wake her? Is she not feeling well? Great I woke her up because of
my own stupidity. “Hey, how’s it going? Did I wake you?”
“Not really, I am just
watching a movie.”
“Oh, okay. Listen I feel
really dumb about this, but could you come over and look at something? I cut
myself and need to know if I should go for stitches.” Jeez, I hate asking for help, especially when it is for something so
dumb.
“On my way!” Okay, now she sounds frantic, dang it, it is
not that big of a deal.
“Thanks, but it is not a
huge deal, it is just my finger, just forget it. I’ll just bandage it up.”
“No, we’re on our way
just sit tight” click.
Well
shoot. I paced back and forth while I waited. Trying to
resist the urge to look at the finger again, knowing that I shouldn’t take the
pressure off of it yet.
Oh,
there they are. I can see the truck pull up through the
open door. Stacy doesn’t even make it to the door before the questions start.
“What happened?” she
demands.
“I was shredding some
cabbage and cut my finger.” I know how dumb it sounds, but what can you do.
“How long ago?”
“Just before I called
you. Listen, it is really not that bad. I think I over reacted.”
“Let me see” she sounds
like she might be calming down a bit.
No comments:
Post a Comment