I was shaving my legs the other day and trying to remember where I got this weird faint scar down my shin. And then I remembered. It was almost exactly three years ago and it's definitely one of my weirder injuries.
I'm making tomatillo sauce for chicken tacos tonight and thought the paper skins were so pretty, like green flowers.
But you see that big old jar of water back there? That's my super-sized water cup
for today. Because it is ridiculously hot outside and I? I am wearing
I am wearing pants because my leg has been mangled.
My leg was mangled by...yogurt.
I went to the grocery store last week and remembered that Stinky has been
begging for yogurt lately (he also begs for broccoli and carrots. And to
read the scriptures. And I'm trying to decide if this bodes well for
the teenage years or if I should be hunkering down and preparing for the
storm) so I grabbed one of those big tubs and set it in the vacant
baby seat because the rest of my cart was quite full. And then it fell
through the leg hole and the (vicious!) sharp edges of the plastic lid
took a huge swath of my shin with it on the way down.
It looked pretty horrific. As I limped my way to the check-out I got a lot of, "Oh my gosh, are you OK?" A couple concerned women asked what happened. "See that bloodied tub of yogurt right there?" Confused nods. "It attacked my leg." More confused nods.
It's almost a week later and it still looks pretty ugly. I had to wear a
long dress to church yesterday because I didn't want to have to explain
how I was attacked by yogurt via my own idiocy to everyone who saw the 5 inch gash down my shin. It's just one of those stories that's difficult to explain without people thinking you're crazy, you know?
So here I am. In long pants. Bitterly eating yogurt.
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