Sweet Potatoes Attack!

For Mothers' Day, Sam and I traveled to Salt Lake to eat dinner with my family. As usual, I wanted to make a tasty side dish. I have been craving sweet potato fries ever since Sam and I had them at Guru's (a fun restaurant in downtown Provo). So, I decided to stand up to the challenge and make some sweet potato fries. But I wanted them to be healthy, so I decided to bake them. I tried a recipe during the week, and they turned out ok. They weren't fabulous-- they were a little soggy-- so I thought I would try to crank up the heat and see if that helped. So, Sam and I schlepped a bag of sweet potatoes to my parents' house. I washed them and started chopping. Sam peered on nervously, begging me to be careful. "Simmer down," I replied. "This knife is not sharp enough to cut me." Sam's pool of blue-green eyes gazed back at me, "just the same. Be careful, my love." I cut haughtily with my culinary skill, determined to prove my expertise with my skillful cuts and chops. And then Pride conspired with the Cosmos to my downfall. There I was, mid-chop, when the knife came down on my un-suspecting index finger. Grazing the nail's edge on to the tender flesh, the knife sliced through my digit with reckless abandon. Wedged in the golden root vegetable, the knife glared in triumphant horror. I yanked my finger away from the offender and clutched at the inured phalange. I ran from the scene, and began to run my hand under a cool, forgiving stream of water. Stomping my foot in rage and pain, I howled and cursed the heavens in futility. Luckily, my dashing mate was near and rushed to my side. At the advice of my sister Nurse Lindsay, Sam whisked me off to urgent care. With a paper towel applied for pressure, and a bag of frozen corn for pain, we arrived in a flurry of tears and laughter. In between sobs of wimp-like pain expression, I thought it comical to speculate the doctor's orders: stitches? finger amputation? arm amputation? euthenasia? The doctor saw us promptly with a stoic facade. I attempted to joke, he wouldn't have it. He set down to business with the prognosis: a band-aid. The kindly nurse descended into the room and faced the task of bandaging. With ten minutes, I was on my way with a fancy taping and wrapping of the ghastly wound.

How am I doing now? I have braced myself and faced the storm of and injured index. I have progressed to a simple finger tip band-aid and thank my lucky stars I didn't lose the tip of my blessed appendage. Though I am not sure feeling will return to the tiny tip, I am confident I will have a scar worthy of this story.

Pictures from California

The first picture is of my sisters Whitney and Amy and my nieces Lindsay and Lucy. We went to a color-me-mine type place in palo alto for Lindsay's 6th birthday.

Amy, Whitney, Sophie, and I went into the city for a day of shopping at Union Square, the farmer's market, and the cheesecake factory. Whitney and I thought these sculpture things we rather hilarious, so we had to pose with them.

Hanging out on Sunday night, me, Lindsay, and Lucy on the couch.

Now, I could have added some pictures from Sam's time alone in Utah. They would all have been him sitting in front of a computer or sitting in front of a tv.