|Rio (our friends' french bulldog) and Daisy, about to take on the world. Or at least, our alma mater.|
We spent the past few days daytime pup-sitting for good friends of ours, which was actually really fun. Long story short, this Frenchie is (so far) one of the only dogs around whom Daisy isn't aggressive . She LOVES her buddy Rio, and we love getting her playing with another dog rather than fighting with one. They play constantly when they are together, OMGsoexcited to see each other every time.
Barring the few hours they both spent passed out at complete opposite corners of the house (probably for breathing room, hahah), Daisy and her buddy Rio were rolling around nonstop. Those of you who do two dogs on a normal basis (or two ANYTHINGS, for that matter!), a tip of the hat to you.
From the moment he arrived to the moment he was picked up each day. My nerves were not used to this kind of activity around the house all.day.long! And oh my gosh, let's not talk about the time I tried walking the two of them by myself. It felt like I had eight dogs on the end of those leashes, not two.
|Running in circles on a deserted spring-break Westmont campus|
|a large chunk of our beach boulevard walk was spent rolling in the grass. They rolled. I untangled leashes.|
Needless to say, I needed a glass of wine by the end of the week.
And cupcakes! And human/adult social-time! Lightbulb: I'd have our friends stay over for dinner when they came to pick up their pup, since it had been a few weeks or so since we'd had them over for a little dinner party. I'd do something simple and low-key, we'd celebrate the end of another week, done and done.
What is it about the best-laid plans again? Something about them often going awry?
Yeah. A few hours after that decision, I was sitting in urgent care getting my arm stitched up. How did we get from point A (let's have a dinner party!) to B (Tim! Take me to the emergency room!)?
A series of stupid decisions, that's how. Long story short, I made frosting in my food processor (not really a mistake, just an odd choice), which ended up a little thin and needed to set up in the fridge for awhile before it could be piped onto the cupcakes. I poured it into my piping tool (whyyyyyyyyyyy didn't I use a spatula or spooonnnnnn???) without removing the blade (WHY??!). Gravity did its thing, and the processor blade thunked into my wrist. Durrrrrr so DUMB!
It was such a small cut, really, just a little less than a half-inch long. But:
- I was home alone at the time, and had no one to give me a second opinion
- I'd slit my WRIST open, and there was a lot of blood at the beginning
- The blade had sunk deep into my arm, so even though it was only a half inch long, it was almost that deep too.
- Tendons. I could see my tendons.
Um, I think I need to go to the hospital.
I called Tim, who had been having lunch with a former coworker 15 minutes away, since There was no way I could drive while holding my wrist closed and high in the air. Corralling the dogs outside was a feat in and of itself, since they were thrilled at the possibility of scoring some of the spilled frosting on the floor! Since there was both blood and blade on the floor too, they didn't get the chance ;).
When we finally got to see the doctor, most of the bleeding had stopped so I knew I wasn't going to bleed to death. That's good. The doctor numbed my wrist and fiddled around inside the wound (which he could do because I'd cut all the way through the skin to where muscles and tendons slide around inside) and told me that if it had cut even a millimeter deeper, or even a millimeter in any other direction, my tendon would have been nicked or even severed and I would have had to be referred to an orthopedic surgeon.
I'd never had stitches before, so I was really interested in watching the whole process. It isn't all that different from stitching fabric! Haha so gross. I also was fascinated by the tests the doctor was running to make sure I hadn't damaged anything internally, because how often do you actually get to see the way your tendons work?! It was like being in Anatomy class all over again. I geeked out for sure.
We had a frozen lasagna and salad for the dinner party :)
The moral of the story: take the dang blade out of the dang food processor before you do anything else!
Have you ever gotten stitches or gone to the emergency room/urgent care?
Care to share your dumb kitchen accidents to make me feel any better?