Ladies and gentlemen, meet my nemesis, my newly purchased mandoline. For you idiots people out there who think that's an instrument, please refer to your dictionary immediately. Anykitchentool, because WWMD (What Would Martha Do) is always my mantra when I'm in the kitchen, I knew I had to own a mandoline. But I wasn't willing to go for the gold; no, I had to buy the el cheapo OXO brand from Bed, Bath & Beyond.
Never again.
And perhaps never again will I have perfect juliennes, and thus Martha Stewart will never be my BFF.
This, my friends, is what happens when The Mother Load (who is accident prone to begin with and completely klutz-i-fied) steps not-so-gingerly into the ring with the wrong kitchen tool:
Here, let me give you "The Finger."
I'm just joking---not giving you the bird, but hard to photograph it.
Now compare the tips of both fingers. Not hard to see which one is injured.
The Father Load had to cauterize my finger with silver nitrate, which was so not fun, but it stopped the bleeding. Nevermind that my screaming propelled my progeny into utter hysterics (methinks fingertips are loaded with nerve endings). #MomFail. Should've thought to remove the girls from the house before hubs attempted to fix my boo boo.
Needless to say, typing has become slow and problematic.
What valuable lessons have you learned today?
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