Bitches tend to snark it out ... with occasional tacklehugs and random glitter sprinkling.

Burned the fuck out of my hand. Committed the cardinal sin of allowing myself to become distracted in the kitchen. Had just pulled a pan out of a 400F oven and put it on the stove. A minute later, I went to move it so the handle wouldn't be in the way and potentially burn anyone. I just neglected to pick up the pot holder and curled my right hand around the hot handle. No the irony is not lost on me. I feel so freakin' stupid. I have some small blisters in the top of my palm and the tips of my third and fourth fingers hurt pretty bad.

At least dinner was good. Made pork tenderloin and the apple/blue cheese clafouti that was linked here.

Still feel stupid.

Ouch, Barb. You've been soaking it in cold water?

I dislocated a rib three times this afternoon. For some reason, I always dislocate that rib a day or two before starting my period. It pops right back in, and doesn't hurt much, but it's really annoying.

Stuck it under cold water right away, then sprayed lidocaine all over it and iced it. Now I've slathered it in aloe gel and neosporin, wrapped loosely in gauze and I'm icing it some more.

So, so stupid.

I've been there, Barb. Ugh, and ouch!

Ouch! I hope it heals up quick.

Barb, in the course of my cooking life, I have managed to burn myself multiple times, send an electric shock through my arm once, cut my hands and feet multiple times, get a badly skinned elbow, and get a scratched cornea. One burn does not make you stupid.

It will be a long time before I forget stumbling and catching myself by putting my hand on the engine of a running rototiller. I had to go to the ER for that one. I also had to wait forever because there had been a storm that left a lot of debris and the ER was swamped by people with chainsaw injuries.

I can combine Hil and Gud's posts and tell my blender story!

When I was a kid, I stayed every summer with a family who to this day are my real family (the Bradsberrys). They lived on a sprawling, run down farm in Humboldt Co. Every summer (and only then) I managed to do something that landed me in the E.R. One time in the barn, I stepped on a 3 inch nail that was sticking out of a plank and it went straight up through the sole of my foot with the tip of the nail sticking out of the top of my shoe. Another time I grabbed a cookie sheet out of the oven with both hands. Um, let me just say that we had to take the cookie pan with us to the hospital because we couldn't separate it from my hands. Yeahhhhhh.... And then another time we were horsing around on the pull-out couch and my "sisters" pulled me up by both legs and my head landed on the piano keys. We kept playing until we realized that a piano key was embedded in my forehead. Now that's a good scar. 27 stitches and my eyebrow over my left eye still won't grow in properly.

But I loved staying with the Bradsberrys, wounds and all.