Last week, D and I were watching Hell's Kitchen.  If you aren't familiar, it's a competitive cooking show hosted by Gordon Ramsey.  In that episode, one chick used the mandolin slicer without a guard and promptly lost a chunk of her finger.

D and I scoffed, you never use the mandolin slicer without a guard!  So, I'm slicing potatoes last night and there's an initial point that you actually either have to cut the vegetable in half or you have to go guard-less to start it.  And I promptly slid into my thumb and forefinger.

As I'm clenching my hand under the water and asking D for a paper towel, he gets a smirk on his face.  I know what he's going to say, so I tell him to shut the fuck up already and just give me a paper towel.

He takes over slicing and promptly slices a little knick into his own hand.

For the record though, neither of us were really hurt.  The extent of my damage is that I lost a bit of nail.  And flesh.  So quick, though, that it was virtually painless.  I have band-aids!

Before maiming myself, I attended a "cardio kickboxing" class.  The trainer who teaches the Zumba class before my yoga class recommended it and she was totally spot on.  I was drenched in sweat within the first fifteen minutes and absolutely in love with my body by the end.  We're often so amazed by the things that our horses are capable of that we forget what our own bodies can do.  If I ignore the scale, I love my body.

After the gym and before cooking dinner, it was Booger-visiting time.

Booger-face, where you been?