Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Scars I Have Known

Morning weigh-in: 165#, 10.5% BF
 
Kind of sick last evening/night, lower GI thing, not sure what was going on but we'll close the bathroom door of charity on that scene... Needless to say, no exercise and no going out; dinner was pasta & tuna with wilted spinach, plus a spinach/asparagus salad. (I hit the Easton Farmer's Market last week, but the pickings were slim when it came to actual produce.) Did some housework, laundry, blah blah, got a few computer things done.
 
Tonight, if it doesn't rain too bad, will be the usual Tuesday night follies (I hope). Dinner, with or without the ride, will be at Christian's Spring Hotel, since I'm meeting some Virtual Pub peeps.
 
Can I Play? I see, via Pharyngula, that there's a new blogging game in town: tell a story about some non-surgical scar you have, then pass the invite along. Here's one of mine:
 
I guess it was around 1982-1983 or so, and my parents were out of town so we naturally had a party -- don't worry Mom, not a big deal, just a few guys drinking beer, but we did have a theme: we decided to cook pizza from scratch. Got the ingredients, preheated the oven, and made the most beautiful, professional pie you ever saw, the only downside being that we made the pie on a plastic tray, which couldn't be put in the oven. What to do? The pizza was too fragile to just slide off the tray... We eventually took one of the oven racks out, covered the pizza with a dish towel and another tray, flipped it over, replaced the offending tray with the oven rack, flipped it back and -- voila! (This was all done very carefully, like playing Operation with oven mitts on, by a roomful of hungry, inebriated, and solicitous young men.) So there I was, holding the pizza triumphantly upright and on the correct tray, all prepared to start cooking it, and I backed into the hot oven -- I jumped, startled, the pizza started to slip, and I grabbed it with my arms without thinking, sort of hugging the hot oven tray. Tsssssss! Sizzle sizzle, like the start of "Kung Fu" when he leaves the Shao Lin temple, I got two nice scars on the inside of my forearms. Never felt a thing.
 
So who to tag? Well, I only know one other blogger, so yeah I'm looking at you MTBSailor! Anyone else who wants to share can do it in comments.
 
 

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Oh what I don't know!
It's better left unsaid!

I NEVER noticed those scars; neither did Dad.

Don said...

I'll show them to you next time I visit.