I very gracefully sliced the tip of my thumb off last night cutting an apple for the girls. It went better than I expected for everyone involved, esp me. Normally, I can't handle the sight of my own blood. And I've cut myself before with a dull knife so I can verify what they say about cutting yourself with a sharp one. G was all about getting in there and nursing me: she wanted to spray the disinfectant liquid for me, pat it dry, put the band-aid on. Maybe we've got a medical professional in the making.
This morning as I was making breakfast I was reflecting on how one injured finger usually means two or three "useless" ones. You know, you're so busy babying the injured one that the ones closest to it end up getting in on the action as well. So all day I've been catching myself, trying to put my index finger back to use.
Another preggo and I went in for a pedicure this morning. A pedicure must be had at least once in a woman's pregnancy given that it gets harder and harder to reach the toes. And you just can't beat the pampering.
p.s. It's snowing today, forecast 2-5 inches during the day, another 2-5 in the night. I was talking to my preggo friend, who's lived her all her life, and evidently with this new snowfall (and possible freezing), we'll have a second break-up when it warms up again. Ah, Alaska...
