Chow Chess & Near Death

Just a couple items of interest to keep everyone feeling included.

Shawna's apartment possesses one refrigerator with an overhead freezer. Not small by any means, but only one. When one fridge is needed to house 10+ pounds of butter, gallons of milk, bricks of cheese, pounds of ham, chilling cookie dough, etc, open space can be difficult to come by. But, if we learned nothing else from our mother, we learned there is always more room in the refrigerator. The act of creating space in a plum-full fridge takes great strategy and cunning. We won't be outwitted by a measly package of food.

Many rearrangements are necessary through the course of the day. It's fun and exciting. We call it Chow Chess. Of course, life would be 48.5% simpler if we had more fridge space, but then we would be robbed of a beautiful opportunity to exercise our listless brains. Sudoku ain't got nothing on Chow Chess!

And then we have excitement, too.

This morning Kenny was kind enough to lend a hand as Kindra assembled the muffins. In the process (in order to make a long self-justifying story shorter and truer, we will abridge it now) Kenny was viciously attacked by a rabid pineapple-can lid. It's hard to know why it happened for the lid was unprovoked. Yet it happened.

The jagged lid cut deep.

Kenny grabbed his thumb and winced.

"Ooop! That's a deep one!" His manly downplay of the incident was remarkable.

Blood covered his hand and dripped into the sink. He ran cold water over it.

"Kindra! Help! It's a gusher." Kenny appealed for help, or sympathy, or anything to ebb the tide of blood that cascaded from his wound. "It's a raging torrent!"

"What do you need?!" Kindra's voice joined Kenny's at an excited pitch.

"Does Shawna have any band-aides?" He looked at the wound. A third of an inch--hardly the band-aide type. "Actually, I don't think a band-aide is gonna do it. Does she have any super glue?"

"I don't know!" Was Kindra's frantic response. But with a phone call to Shawna, Kindra soon procured some super glue from the fridge. The sticky solution was dabbed on the wound and blown on feverishly (some maintain this act quickens the drying process). At last the torrent was subdued and peace came again to the kitchen... no products were harmed in the process.

Canned fruit ain't good for a person. Just ask Kenny. He's pushing for all fresh all the time... even if it does require the use of a twelve inch knife. It's gotta be safer than a rabid metal can.

Our days-on-the-job-without-an-injury sign has been reset to zero. Safety is still not a concern. But stupidity is something to worry about.