I know I haven’t posted in a while; life outside the blogosphere has really been slapping me around.  As some of you may know, we’re in the process of moving from our little slice of Hampton Roads back to the capital of the Commwealth.  Not too far, but there’s a lot that goes into a relocation.  Once we decided on a home, we’ve been attending to all the minutiae that comes along with it.  DH is as smooth as freshly laid cement; he’s totally unfazed at the prospect of packing up our 5 years here.  Me, on the other hand, I’ve purchased a one-way ticket to Crazy-Town.

We’ve gotta pack! We’ve gotta throw stuff out! We’ve gotta get change of address forms!  So, the posts have been few and far between as I’ve been trying to sort stuff out, clean stuff up, and prepare for what I hope to be, a relatively easy move.

If that weren’t enough, my knee started giving me problems.  A dull, persistent ache has been radiating from my knee-cap for the past two weeks.  My mother, who’s scheduled for her own knee surgery next month, says it’s sympathy pains. I say it’s damn inconvenient. I’m walking around waiting for my leg to give out, that’s how achy and uncomfortable I am.  I went to the orthopedist, who diagnosed me as having Runner’s Knee.  Translation: you run a lot, your joints are going to get angry. Thankfully, no surgery required, but I’ve been fitted with brace that makes the Bionic Woman look like the Tin Man.

Now, as we all know, I like to eat.  Thankfully, I like to cook.  I’m not really a kitchen gadget person, but I had been wanting to get a few things to help my prep work move a little faster. I had been going back and forth about getting a mandoline.  You know, one of these things. . .

It slices. It juliennes.  It comes with a finger guard that I am always in too much of rush to use until I get to the nub of whatever I’m slicing.  Then I think, “Hmm, I should really get that guard out before I [insert expletive].” Because, of course, my finger tip as come flying off.

Mandoline: 2
Fingertips: 0

And for the record, it’s really hard to type with only nine, intact digits.  The pain, however, has been dwarfed by my need to share about my reckless cooking skills.  Learn from my mistakes; buy pre-chopped.