Wow, sorry for leaving that bummer post up for so long. And a big fat THANK YOU to the friends who reached out to me via email or phone. I had no idea other people were going through this. Why don’t we talk about this stuff more?
Anyway, I totally forgot to tell you guys about our Christmas. Well, our Christmas Day-Christmas. See, we had three days of Christmas at our house to accomodate for parental gatherings. It was hectic but fun, and as of the morning of the 25th Ed and I were exhausted but pretty proud of ourselves and our entertaining prowess. We were brimming with Christmas Spirit and Hospitality and rocking the shit out of the prep-cook-serve-clean routine we had going.
We woke early so that once guests (Ed’s dad, sister, her boyfriend, and my mom and Dave) arrived we could relax a bit and just pop things in the oven. We whipped up some fabulous cupcakes and frosting FROM SCRATCH, BITCHES. I decided to take a shower while Ed got to work on the sweet potatoes using the new mandolin.
Moments later there was a knock on the bathroom door and a “Honey? Can you help me put pressure on this? I cut myself.” I immediately flashed back to this joyous event.
It was quickly apparent that the bleeding had zero intention of slowing the fuck down, we were running out of first aid supplies, and Ed has decent health insurance. Off to the emergency room we went!
Did I mention that by this time half our guests had shown up? And that Ed’s dad was meeting his daughter’s new boyfriend for the first time? And we just…left them all there to hang out and deal while we took off for the hospital? Because all of that happened. So much for being the Best Hosts Ever.
We were home within an hour and luckily the damage wasn’t too horrible (no stitches, and thanks to last summer’s incident Ed was up-to-date on his tetanus shot), but dude. The ER on Christmas morning? Pretty damn bleak. And no one who works there looks like George Clooney.
Ed was mostly embarrassed about the whole thing, despite the reassurance from the nurse and doctor that coming in was the right thing to do. And most importantly: he was able to continue cooking dinner, or at least give directions so his sister and I could help out.
And so the nickname “Just the Tip” lives on! God bless us, everyone!
Is This Thing On? 
This is why our mandolin has been sitting in a closet for the past two years, unopened.
If I cut myself on our cheese grater (Every. Single. Time.) I know the mandolin is going to take at least a finger or two.
Good call. We JUST bought ours for this specific dish on Christmas and BLAMMO! First use = trip to the ER. I even hurt myself opening the package, but not nearly as severe as poor Ed. That thing is a death trap. But oh man. The potatoes were yummy.