Chopped Champion Wannabe

I cut my finger last week.

 It was right before Aidan's bedtime. Jayze was at the store buying an ingredient we needed for our masterpiece dinner. I kept glancing at the clock, confident that I could get the halfway cut-up carrots in the oven before Aidan had a complete meltdown and before Jayze got back.

Most of the carrots were cut up (I was in the process of making roasted carrots - I'm kind of addicted to them now), and I was on the second to last carrot when it happened. Since I was in a race against the clock, my mind flashed back to the show Chopped. When Jayze and I can't settle on a movie, we resort to watching Chopped on Hulu. Although "resort" isn't the best word because we're kind of addicted to that, too.

Anyway, I'll spare you the details of Chopped (look it up on Hulu, it's pretty good) and get back to my almost cut finger. 

 Like I was saying writing, I was right in the middle of chopping a carrot when Chopped flashed in my mind. I thought, Some of those chefs cut veggies up super fast. I wonder if I could chop them up that fast!

Tongue sticking out, I began cutting with renewed, fast energy. I cut two or three slices of the carrot and then one slice of my finger.

Ouch.

I dropped the knife on the counter, stared in shock at the blood-red blood rushing out of my ring finger, and rushed to the sink and turned on the faucet. Water washed over my finger, but the blood kept coming. Of course, I thought, this had to happen when Jayze is gone.

I grabbed the kitchen towel hanging from the oven door handle and pressed it to my finger to staunch the bleeding (against all my hygiene instincts regarding kitchen towels and blood). Praying Aidan would be okay playing on the floor until Jayze got back, I ran to the bedroom, grabbed a handful of bandaids, ran back to the living room where Aidan was, told him everything was okay (he had no idea anything was wrong, I was more comforting myself than him), and awkwardly bandaged my finger with one hand, hoping not to get blood everywhere. 

Noticing that my hands were shaking, I grabbed my phone and called Jayze. 

"Hi, honey! How's it going?"

"Heyyyy, I cut my finger..." *sniff sniff, trying to be strong

"Oh no! How bad?"

"I don't know..." I said *still sniffing, "It was bleeding pretty bad..." (Why am I crying over a cut finger? Finger, really?)

"Do you think it needs stitches?"

"I don't know...when are you coming home?"

Jayze had just arrived at the store. Go figure.

I hung up the phone with Jayze's promise to hurry back home. 

Aidan, unconcerned, kept playing with his toy. I bravely swallowed my shock, clenched my jaw, and determined to change his diaper and put him to bed whether or not my finger hurt. 

When Jayze got home, we had a mini conference of Should We Go to the ER or Should We Just Make Do With Bandaids and a lot of DON'T TOUCH MY FINGER! *insert hyperventilating. In the end, I called my mom, sent her a blurry picture of my finger, received reassurances from her, and made do with bandaids. After checking it in the morning, I was glad we didn't go to the ER.  Things always seem worse when blood is involved, but looking at it the next morning, it wasn't much of a cut.

But by golly, my finger hurt, and I realized over the next few days how much I used my temporary useless finger. It was a lesson to be grateful for ALL of my fingers. None of them are useless.

In short, while cutting veggies, leave the fast chopping to the Chopped Champions.

Warning: Graphic material below (not really)