Ouch!

Last Saturday I went with a friend to get a pedicure.  Two years ago on my birthday, my husband gave me a gift certificate for a pedicure.  A few months ago I gave it to my friend because I thought she would be more likely to use it.

She invited me to go.

I picked yellow.  My boys said the flowers on my toes look like spiders.



By the end of Saturday I'd already scuffed the polish up pretty bad and got a little wierded out by the yellow so I applied a thin layer of gold glitter to all 10 toes. It's better now.

When I got home from the pedicure it was time to get to business. First, I stopped at the gas station and got a coke. Then my husband and boys got home from the doctor and they brought me a coke. Score! One had lime and the other lemon so I was pretty happy. Second, it was time to make potatoes. A young girl with cerebral palsy passed away in my neighborhood/ward and I volunteered to fix some scalloped potatoes for the family luncheon.

To keep the potato slices uniform, I decided to use the mandolin slicer. On my second potato, I quite literally sliced off more than I was prepared for and took a huge chunk of my thumb off.

I swore.

It hurt.

Under the cold water, the blood was gushing. This kind of think normally doesn't phase me, but on this day, with this thumb, I was starting to lose it. The thumb got wrapped in a cold towel and elevated. It was throbbing and I was woozy.

I marched myself to the bathroom and sat on the toilet with my thumb under some more cold water. Seriously thought those delicious diet cokes were going to come back up for a visit.

Such a wimp.

In the end, my kind husband bandaged my thumb's missing parts (and a big chunk of finger nail, too), helped me off the floor to the couch and got me an ice pack. I settled into the couch in all my spastic glory and watched more house hunters than should be allowed.

Ross finished my potatoes. By the time they were done and needed to be to the church I had cowboyed up.

But only for the next 30 minutes or so. Thank heavens I was home alone and no one was looking.

I was only brave until Sunday morning when I had to take the bandaid off. Part of the adhesive was stuck to my wound. It was time for wimp round two....eventually, after about 15 minutes I was man enough to pull the bandaid off.

That made me a bit dizzy, too.