sand and water

Been a rough week or two in Casa de Panda.  My husband, who has some serious PTSD, lost his sole surviving relative early this week.  Pappy, his 90-year-old grandfather, was more than just a grandpa ... over the past two years, we've become his support system and his source of entertainment.  I adopted him as my grandpa too, caring for him and visiting him when Panda was too sick to go (he has a host of other health issues, on top of the PTSD).

Anyhow, it's been tough.  I've occupied nearly every free minute with trying to keep my poor husband from spiraling into a crippling depression, and that's involved a lot of cooking.  I have tons to share, so I better get typing.  However, it is very very painful.  I'll show you why, after the jump.  And be warned - photos of ouchies will be shared.  Don't whine to me if you get icked out ... I told you what was coming.

OK.  So here's what happened.  Almost three weeks ago, I had a very unfortunate accident with one of my newly-sharpened KitchenAid knives and my knuckle.  I was slicing an avocado, and cut my finger down to the knuckle bone.  This is three weeks' worth of healing right here.  Pardon my lack of manicure - been busy.

So ... today.  I was trimming the fat off of a delicious brisket.  Oh, it was joyous.  And again, I was using one of my newly-sharpened KitchenAid knives.  And again, I took an unholy chunk out of my finger.

My husband, Jeebus love him, got me some flour to stop the bleeding (it acts as a styptic agent without the hateful burning that makes you use the f-word a lot).  He then set about helping me clean my wound, swear appropriately, and bandage it up.  I probably should have went and got some stitches, but seeing as how I really don't like needles or doctors ... I didn't.  If it gets infected looking, I'll go and get myself some antibiotics.  Till then though, it's neosporin and a bandage change every two or three hours.

Ah, the shit I endure just to make an entertaining blog.  You People better appreciate the blood, sweat, and tears I put into this.  I'm Catholic ... I'm good at this guilt thing.

More tomorrow, gonna go drown some Advil with some NyQuil and pray for the sweet release of death.  Big N .. little y ...