About every other month, I nearly cut my finger off. But it's usually never with a big, long, thick, capable-of-severing-my-entire-wrist-sharp knife and it hardly ever occurs while I'm cutting anything of any significance or carving up a new awe-capturing owl sculpture.
No, its cutting another slice from the US-portion-sized-Costco honey crisp apple, and I want a piece, and I want it quick so I can eat my favorite dessert of crisp, flavorful apple, like the ones I picked fresh as a kid and then adding a dollop of Adam's all natural, no sugar added, peanut butter on it; or it's cutting a local heirloom tomato.
And the knife? Usually it's a Cutco butter knife. But for those who know, for those who have had a son, daughter, friend or relative that needed a job and they were roped into selling the highest-quality-on-the-planet and most expensive knives in the kitchen, you know that even the butter knives are capable of cutting through hard burnt whole grain toast like it was butter. And that's how it happened. Not the toast but with the butter knife.
Lucky my finger nail was there to stop it.
Since it wasn't bad, since my pride hid the pain, since I couldn't believe I kept forgetting my boy scout teaching to never, unless you are a surgeon, cut toward any body parts, and since the apple had a lot of red, it took me a minute or two to realize I was bleeding. But the apple and peanut butter couldn't wait. So, two pints of blood later, it hit me. I do fine on the hard stuff, I do fine on the easy stuff, I do fine with the obviously dangerous stuff. It's the stuff I don't expect, it's the stuff I underestimate, it's the stuff that is soft and insignificant that I'm cutting into with a butter knife, it's the stuff I am too anxious to devour that gets me, causing me to let down my guard and has me cutting toward things that bleed.
So, don't sweat the little stuff, sweat the big stuff, and respect the stuff that you tend to underestimate because it has the potential to make you bleed.
That is you, as in me.
Loren M. Lambert, October 29, 2015 ©
No, its cutting another slice from the US-portion-sized-Costco honey crisp apple, and I want a piece, and I want it quick so I can eat my favorite dessert of crisp, flavorful apple, like the ones I picked fresh as a kid and then adding a dollop of Adam's all natural, no sugar added, peanut butter on it; or it's cutting a local heirloom tomato.
And the knife? Usually it's a Cutco butter knife. But for those who know, for those who have had a son, daughter, friend or relative that needed a job and they were roped into selling the highest-quality-on-the-planet and most expensive knives in the kitchen, you know that even the butter knives are capable of cutting through hard burnt whole grain toast like it was butter. And that's how it happened. Not the toast but with the butter knife.
Lucky my finger nail was there to stop it.
Since it wasn't bad, since my pride hid the pain, since I couldn't believe I kept forgetting my boy scout teaching to never, unless you are a surgeon, cut toward any body parts, and since the apple had a lot of red, it took me a minute or two to realize I was bleeding. But the apple and peanut butter couldn't wait. So, two pints of blood later, it hit me. I do fine on the hard stuff, I do fine on the easy stuff, I do fine with the obviously dangerous stuff. It's the stuff I don't expect, it's the stuff I underestimate, it's the stuff that is soft and insignificant that I'm cutting into with a butter knife, it's the stuff I am too anxious to devour that gets me, causing me to let down my guard and has me cutting toward things that bleed.
So, don't sweat the little stuff, sweat the big stuff, and respect the stuff that you tend to underestimate because it has the potential to make you bleed.
That is you, as in me.
Loren M. Lambert, October 29, 2015 ©
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