Hey everyone. Jason here. Long time no write. How was Thanksgiving? Good? Good. Oh, mine? Umm, interesting. Let’s see…how do I say this…I was helping my mom slice yams and cut a chunk of my finger off. Yep. A chunk…clean off. And yes, I know how to cut, but she had this new mandolin slicer, and my pinky slipped off the yam, and shwup…done deal. Blood everywhere, a screaming mother, and me, in shock, staring at my hand, a quarter of a digit short.

But I’m fine. The doctors say there was no need to reattach it and that it’ll heal and look normal enough. Weird. But in meantime, I’m rocking the mummy mitten, and wincing every time I put on a shirt.

My roommate said, “You should blog about this. I’m sure you can pull out a lesson.”

Well if you want something deep, take your ten finger having asses somewhere else. The lesson is, mandolin slicers are for chefs, psychopaths and dummies (me), and knives work just fine. Keep it old school if you wanna keep your fingers.

Besides that I learned to be thankful for shock (I felt nothing…at first,) be thankful for medication (I feel nothing…now,) and be thankful for the other nine fingers, all picking up the slack.

But on the real, I did think about the fact that I’m a writer, and right now I can’t hold a pen, and have to type SUPER slow with my right hand. That definitely put things in perspective.

And I wont even BEGIN to tell you what it feels like to redress it everyday, to rip gauze, stiffened with dried blood, from an open wound.

You ever had a patch of hair pulled out? Or been burned by the oven? Yeah. Like that…but slower. Ridiculous.

(Worst part is…it’s not even a cool story. It’s not like I was in a knife fight, y’know, “Beat It” style. It’s not even like I was cutting TURKEY!  Nope, not me. Yams. Really, Jason. Yams?)

F’ing yams.