in·at·ten·tive.

not paying attention; heedless; negligent

I have a hand mixer
A fabulous one
One that looks like this:

My mom has a hand mixer too
And it is different from mine
Different enough that I feel
Like that can be my excuse
Or explanation for the horrid story below


See, I was at my parents house
Using my mom's hand mixer
Or I guess I was getting ready to use it
And I was putting the little mixer things
In their places
Do those have a name?
You know what I mean
The silver, whisk-like arms that you click into their
designated holes?
I clicked the first one in
Grabbed the second one
And as I was putting it in....
Somehow the mixer turned on
Do you know how bad it hurts to have your
Hand mixed in a hand mixer?
It hurts really really BAD
I was sure I had broken all of my fingers
But do you know what?
I think it hurt my feelings more than it hurt my hand
Why does everything go so wrong for me in the kitchen?
I cut myself
Grate my fingers
burn my hands
spill stuff everywhere
And apparently--
mix my hand in a hand mixer.


But when I am finished...Bruised and bloody
I usually have something tasty
To comfort me while I lick my wounds
Like my latest trifle I made on Saturday:

Yep I spent hours slaving in the kitchen 

All for this little man:



For him and his blessing day

But to be honest, I'd spend hours

Slaving over anything for that guy

Any day.

He. Makes. Me. Happy.

And suddenly my hand doesn't hurt so much anymore...