The latter part of Sukkot we were hosting and were guests, but the first day lunch we were hosting, so there was much preparing for the large crowd we were having. Being a bit organized this time, I divvied up the meal-making over a few days, just leaving a couple of things to do for Erev Yom Tov, when I came home from work in the early afternoon.
One of those things was making gefilte fish.
No, I'm not such a balebusta that I buy chopped fish or the unthinkable, grind it myself, and make gefilte fish. But I do make the frozen fish loaves, doctoring them up in a flavorful way as they cook.
And I made two loaves. And when it was time to take them out of the pot, I used a couple of utensils to try to balance a loaf at each end. The first loaf didn't cooperate and fell back into the pot. S P L A S H! OUCHOUCHOUCH....! (a stronger expression actually spewed forth from my lips) The water had splashed onto the middle of my hand and on some fingers.
The pain was quite unbearable; after a minute of shock, I ran the hand under cold water and blew on the hand the way our mothers always blew on our "boo-boos" to make them feel better. Still so painful and tingling at the same time, the way skin does when you have "pins and needles" after a foot or a hand falls asleep and you get up to move.
I found some cream to put on the injury -- my domestic "war wound" -- and told my story to my husband and children as they came through the door.
The next day, the area that had been splashed was visibly red, the next day it being worse, and a couple of fingers being swollen. A doctor friend at shul declared it a first-degree burn and told me to continue to apply the Polysporin (TM) cream, which was not a burn cream, but the only one I had at home.
The hand became a conversation piece at shul and in mixed company: "WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR HAND?" I tried to put on cream and then wrap it in gauze, but I looked too much like a mummy in that area. (a "mummy mummy") So I continued to keep it exposed.
About a week ago, the skin, which had turned reddish-brown, began to flake and peel and itch like mad...hopefully a sign of true healing.
It is not a pretty sight this hand of mine, but my youngest son noticed something that gave me a bit more perspective of the matter. A couple of days ago, he looked at the area in the middle of my hand that was flaking the most and exposing a new, light pink skin beneath, and he said, "It looks like a heart."
My little boy was right! That main wound is now noticeably in the shape of a heart.
There are some people who are said to wear their heart on their sleeve. Your friend Pearl wears hers on her hand...
I'd hate to think that a large scar might remain on my left hand from this kitchen mishap, but at least I know that the gefilte fish, which was the instigator, was enjoyed by those guests at my meals.
I can imagine it now: "Where did you get that bad scar?"
"Oh...that? From gefilte fish!"
One of those things was making gefilte fish.
No, I'm not such a balebusta that I buy chopped fish or the unthinkable, grind it myself, and make gefilte fish. But I do make the frozen fish loaves, doctoring them up in a flavorful way as they cook.
And I made two loaves. And when it was time to take them out of the pot, I used a couple of utensils to try to balance a loaf at each end. The first loaf didn't cooperate and fell back into the pot. S P L A S H! OUCHOUCHOUCH....! (a stronger expression actually spewed forth from my lips) The water had splashed onto the middle of my hand and on some fingers.
The pain was quite unbearable; after a minute of shock, I ran the hand under cold water and blew on the hand the way our mothers always blew on our "boo-boos" to make them feel better. Still so painful and tingling at the same time, the way skin does when you have "pins and needles" after a foot or a hand falls asleep and you get up to move.
I found some cream to put on the injury -- my domestic "war wound" -- and told my story to my husband and children as they came through the door.
The next day, the area that had been splashed was visibly red, the next day it being worse, and a couple of fingers being swollen. A doctor friend at shul declared it a first-degree burn and told me to continue to apply the Polysporin (TM) cream, which was not a burn cream, but the only one I had at home.
The hand became a conversation piece at shul and in mixed company: "WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR HAND?" I tried to put on cream and then wrap it in gauze, but I looked too much like a mummy in that area. (a "mummy mummy") So I continued to keep it exposed.
About a week ago, the skin, which had turned reddish-brown, began to flake and peel and itch like mad...hopefully a sign of true healing.
It is not a pretty sight this hand of mine, but my youngest son noticed something that gave me a bit more perspective of the matter. A couple of days ago, he looked at the area in the middle of my hand that was flaking the most and exposing a new, light pink skin beneath, and he said, "It looks like a heart."
My little boy was right! That main wound is now noticeably in the shape of a heart.
There are some people who are said to wear their heart on their sleeve. Your friend Pearl wears hers on her hand...
I'd hate to think that a large scar might remain on my left hand from this kitchen mishap, but at least I know that the gefilte fish, which was the instigator, was enjoyed by those guests at my meals.
I can imagine it now: "Where did you get that bad scar?"
"Oh...that? From gefilte fish!"
