Giving You the Finger Update
Well, we’re fresh off the air at The Shopping Channel in Mississauga…Act now! Don’t delay! Call this 1-800#! What more could you ask for in a cookbook? Yada yada yada. This morning we were on air with one of our favourite hosts, Greta. Yes, another Greta! I already had my hands full with one! But two? Yikes! Our 11 minute segment couldn’t have gone by faster, but it was fun and successful. The food that my sister prepared along with her helper, Kaitlin, looked absolutely mouthwatering.
I’m so glad that Greta handles not only the food preparation part of our TV segments, but also the food demonstration part. When the camera zooms closely in on her gorgeously decorated and impeccably styled concoctions, she has the gorgeous and impeccably manicured fingernails to compliment the dishes. Very appealing for the viewers, let me tell you. I, on the other hand, am still trying to hide or at least disguise the scars from “my unfortunate incident” suffered one month ago. (In case you’re in the dark about “my unfortunate incident,” please refer to the blog entitled “Freaky-Finger Friday.”) In short, I slammed the front door of my house on my right index finger, practically severing it. There’s actually quite a story behind it, but I won’t go into the gory details again.
I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who was asking about how I’m doing. I really appreciate your concern. The stitches were removed a couple of weeks ago, and it’s healing up quite nicely. Still attached, which is good. I’ve even played golf a couple of times! Now I have a brand new, sorta pretty pink scar to go along with the six-inch “shark bite” on my right knee (I’ve had six knee operations due to sports injuries–a couple more and I’ll tie Bobby Orr for the most-surgeries record). I also have a doozy of an appendix scar, a one-inch beauty near my left ankle where a metal rod went clear through my bone and out the other side (lawnmower accident–Yowch!), and a half-inch one on my left palm from the time I fell while running with a jar of clover in my hand. (I was eight years old and I was running to feed my bunnies in the backyard. I wasn’t supposed to be doing that, because I was actually supposed to be at Sunday mass with my family. But I faked being sick so I could stay home and play outside instead, and my Polish mother, Alfreda, fell for my Oscar-winning performance. No sooner had the family car pulled out of the driveway, when I bolted into the great outdoors, accidentally locking myself out of the house. Then the rabbit-feeding/jar-smashing-in-hand episode. So you can imagine how steaming mad my Mom was when she came home from church to find her daughter practically bleeding to death on the front porch. “Jaaanet! Vat are yu do-ink?” (She said in her cute Polish accent.) As punishment, I had to stay home sulking in my room that night while the whole family got to go bowling. Oh, the torture! I would have prefered having my fingernails slowly gouged out one by one–bowling was THE MOST favourite thing I liked to do as an eight-year-old.)
Anyway, my wounds are healing just fine. And I’m very grateful. The unfortunate incident could have been much, much worse. I still have a finger, after all. And my newly-acquired scar is simply another conversation piece, another prop for an entertaining story. Even though I couldn’t pick a penny up off the floor for the life of me, and I’ll never have a career as a hand model, what a hit I’ll be at parties!
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