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She gets it from me

My sweet niece recently had her second trip to the ER for an accident.  Luckily, no stitches were required.  Unluckily, she's not even two and all this excitement may both kill my brother, and keep me from getting any more nieces/nephews.  I will say that for not having give birth to the child, she does possess an alarming number of traits similar to me.  Her temper and delicate nature topping the list.

When you cook as much as I do, you're bound to turn out a dud every once in a while whether it be visually, or in taste.  Well, I think we can all agree that the popularity of Pinterest has caused the dud to success ratio to tip in the favor of the duds.  I really am a good cook, but I was almost brought to tears last night by a 2 lb. sack of red potatoes.  I bought the potatoes with the intention of cutting them up and roasting them the old-fashioned way.  On a whim I decided to try and re-create the boiled and then roasted potatoes I had seen on Pinterest a number of times.  You know, like these:

Well, I didn't really read the recipe because I had read it before.  Boil the potatoes, drain the potatoes, use a spoon to mash the potatoes, season the potatoes, roast the potatoes (anyone else now tired of the word "potatoes"?).  So, I preheated the oven and put the water on to boil.  Well, in trying to test the tenderness of the potatoes inside the pot of boiling water with the back of a wooden spoon, I managed to splash my hand, neck, and face with scalding water.  The pain in my hand was only intensified by the fact that earlier in the day I had knocked it into a door leaving about a 2 inch section down my index finger with the skin broken.  The word you're looking for is GRACE.  I decided those spuds (see, I'm tired of the word) needed to sit in that water a little longer and think about what they had done.  Well, apparently you really have to let them boil a LONG time.  Mine where still difficult to mash when I finally took them out of the water.  After squirting potatoes all over the counter, I finally pulled out the potato masher and gave up on presentation.  They actually were good, and I thought about taking a picture, but I couldn't bear the image.

So, I guess I should apologize to my brother.  I'm sorry that she got the gene. You know, the one that leaves you examining your body at 27 years old and realizing you have only 9 3/4 fingers, a crooked left index finger that grew back that way because NOONE BELIEVED IT WAS ACTUALLY BROKEN, and more bruises and scars than you can count.  Be glad you have good insurance.

Katye

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