Dumb injuries, part infinity
Worse than injuring a foot (it still ain't right) while pretending to be a teenage boy is injuring yourself while engaged in the non-contact sport of...cooking.
Baking, even. If grilling is the rugby of cooking, baking is the rhythmic gymnastics.
I made a Key Lime pie yesterday. Organic crust, organic and cruelty-free condensed milk, and I juiced all of those tiny fuckers by hand. It is delicious. However, thanks to the magic of repetitive stress, I now have a very strained wrist. Which I have to suffer in silence, lest someone ask, "how'd you hurt your wrist?"
"Pie," is not an acceptable response.
Baking, even. If grilling is the rugby of cooking, baking is the rhythmic gymnastics.
I made a Key Lime pie yesterday. Organic crust, organic and cruelty-free condensed milk, and I juiced all of those tiny fuckers by hand. It is delicious. However, thanks to the magic of repetitive stress, I now have a very strained wrist. Which I have to suffer in silence, lest someone ask, "how'd you hurt your wrist?"
"Pie," is not an acceptable response.