It's been a long time since my last post here. There have been no hospital trips, no stitches and no major accidents (WTF is wrong with me?).
So, I thought it may be time to revisit this hilariously gruesome and ironic mischance. In 2009 while working as a copywriter, I was cut to the bone. By a butter knife.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Caution: the merry-go-round is dangerous.
Saturday was my first amusement park experience of the year. As you can tell by the nasty photo, the day wasn't all good. It started off super. My niece and nephew were enjoying themselves, nobody was getting hurt, the weather was divine. But then the damned merry-go-round changed all that.
Have you noticed sometimes that when the horsey stops on the pole, it's clear toward the top? Shouldn't it default toward the bottom--uhh--because IT'S A KID'S RIDE? Little children (and little Crystals) could be seriously injured.
Luckily, this week-old leg bruise is the extent of the damage. But it HURT. (I may have yelled some swears.)
My lovely lil niece and sweet sister in law.
Monday, January 24, 2011
I was just trying to do a quick, cute craft.
Have you seen these cute embroidery hoop wall bubbles? It's a quick, easy craft project that's sweeping the web. Fabric clasped within the confines of a simple, wood hoop. Nail in wall. Hang. DONE.
When my eyes first fixed on these beautiful little artsy fartsy pieces, I was thrilled. THIS SEEMS LIKE SOMETHING I CAN DO AND NOT MESS UP, I thought to myself.
Hoop #1 turned out perfect. Gorgeous, if I may say. Hoop #2. Lovely. Hoop #3. What a cinch. I own this project.
Hoop #4, though, will now be referred to as the blue satin enemy. As I fixed the satin fabric in the main hoop and placed the smaller hoop inside, something awful happened.
A nasty mistake was made. One that won't soon be forgotten. Instead of pounding and pressing the wood until it fit into its corresponding piece, I smoothed my hand over the top, in one swift motion. The cheap, thin wood, its grain going in the opposite direction, revealed a tiny thorn that couldn't wait to attack the meatiest part of my fragile, little hand.
Folks, this sliver was 1/2-inch long. It was far enough beneath my skin that it couldn't easily be plucked out, but close enough to the surface to be seen in its entirety. I violently grabbed at it and pulled (first instinct). That was another stewpid mistake. The fragile wood broke off, leaving the majority stuck (and inaccessible) inside my palm, with nothing left for me to grasp.
This project is no longer my bitch.
No one was home, so I continued to angrily yank at the wood chunk. I started using tweezers and trying to push the sliver from the opposite direction toward the entry wound. Since this happened to my right hand, and alas I am not ambidextrous, it was looking more and more like a lost cause.
I ran to the Nabors' house (yes, my neighbors' names are Nabor).
No one home.
Sam licked my face. My whining and erratic behavior was concerning the lil furball.
Twenty minutes passed. My body started to respond to the embedded foreign object. The meaty part swelled and turned red and the stinging became a little more apparent.
Chris got home and dug into it with a knife, breaking very little skin, and smoothly removing the rest of the sliver.
Not too serious of an accident, but definitely a tiny mishap.
When my eyes first fixed on these beautiful little artsy fartsy pieces, I was thrilled. THIS SEEMS LIKE SOMETHING I CAN DO AND NOT MESS UP, I thought to myself.
Hoop #1 turned out perfect. Gorgeous, if I may say. Hoop #2. Lovely. Hoop #3. What a cinch. I own this project.
Hoop #4, though, will now be referred to as the blue satin enemy. As I fixed the satin fabric in the main hoop and placed the smaller hoop inside, something awful happened.
A nasty mistake was made. One that won't soon be forgotten. Instead of pounding and pressing the wood until it fit into its corresponding piece, I smoothed my hand over the top, in one swift motion. The cheap, thin wood, its grain going in the opposite direction, revealed a tiny thorn that couldn't wait to attack the meatiest part of my fragile, little hand.
Folks, this sliver was 1/2-inch long. It was far enough beneath my skin that it couldn't easily be plucked out, but close enough to the surface to be seen in its entirety. I violently grabbed at it and pulled (first instinct). That was another stewpid mistake. The fragile wood broke off, leaving the majority stuck (and inaccessible) inside my palm, with nothing left for me to grasp.
This project is no longer my bitch.
No one was home, so I continued to angrily yank at the wood chunk. I started using tweezers and trying to push the sliver from the opposite direction toward the entry wound. Since this happened to my right hand, and alas I am not ambidextrous, it was looking more and more like a lost cause.
I ran to the Nabors' house (yes, my neighbors' names are Nabor).
No one home.
Sam licked my face. My whining and erratic behavior was concerning the lil furball.
Twenty minutes passed. My body started to respond to the embedded foreign object. The meaty part swelled and turned red and the stinging became a little more apparent.
Chris got home and dug into it with a knife, breaking very little skin, and smoothly removing the rest of the sliver.
Not too serious of an accident, but definitely a tiny mishap.
In case you want to see the finished project (note the blue satin enemy looking full of shame):
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