When I’m in the kitchen, I resemble something close to the Swedish Chef on the Muppets… Watch out, because I don’t like to cook in the first place. So you can bet something disastrous will probably happen before the kitchen and I have parted ways!

On Tuesday, we had a friend from my daughter’s volleyball team over for dinner. I decided to attempt a vegetable stir fry, and swung by the local grocery store to get some meat on the way home. I don’t think my daughter or her team mate really wanted to have finger flesh as part of their meal… but in my hurried attempt to get the carrots chopped, they about got a piece of me. I chopped my middle finger, almost near the top of the fingernail and across part of the exposed flesh around it. Owwwww!!! As I’d learned to do in my School of Natural Healing class, I threw some cayenne pepper into the wound to stop the bleeding, put a band-aid on for pressure, and kept on working.

How ironic that my daughter – probably in a quest to argue with me about letting her have long fingernails – asked me this week what the point of fingernails is, anyway. If her friend hadn’t been there, I would have marched down to her bedroom, showed her my middle finger and said, “THIS is why the good Lord gave us FINGERNAILS, dear daughter!! To prevent us from hacking our fingertips off!” Of course, I’m not sure if she would have gotten past the shock of seeing Mom with that particular digit upturned.

Anyway, my finger still hurt from the mishap the next morning. I was busy all day with kids and my studies and the bills… so I ignored my silly finger until that evening. Here I am, with what can help me right in the house, and yet I suffer. Deciding to finally slow down and take a moment for myself, I got out the Lavender oil and dumped a drop, neat, on my latest cooking battle wound.

As of this morning, the skin has closed up on itself. My nail even looks better. Oh how I love Lavender… and the fact that, no matter what I inflict upon myself in my culinary misadventures, it will yet be waiting for me, like a faithful friend.

I don’t much care to sit in stony silence in a dull dark dock, awaiting the sensation of a short, sharp, shock from a long and chippy chopper on a long black block. – The Mikado