A lot of unexpected bodily mortification, involuntary penance, has visited upon my quarter, more specifically, upon my left hand, courtesy of sputtering-hot cooking oil.
That entire sentence brought to you by the entire team of fingers from my right hand. I learned to type properly with both hands from day one. I must say, this one-hand business is an all-new sensation.
In case you were wondering what I was doing with that hot oil, the answer is I was craving me some very spicy, lip-smacking chili sauce on whatever I was going to have for lunch. After heating the oil, I proceeded to pour it into a jar with prepared red pepper flakes, sesame seeds and minced garlic through a funnel. As some of the oil got trapped above the lower passage of the funnel, it sputtered upward, right over my left hand which was holding the funnel. Let's just say KDM heard the horrific scream and jumped from whatever he was doing and rushed to my side. The guy is always resourceful and helpful in crisis like this, the problem for me, is that he can hardly do so without scolding.
This time, I probably deserved his scolding. Let me explain.
Before Lent began, when I was thinking of something to give up, spicy food was a candidate. Now you must understand that I'm not condemning spicy food, I'm just telling you that my appetite for all foods spicy borders on inordinate, ravenous, gluttonous. In the past Lents I gave up sweets like so many did, playing the good girl. All the while I doused my meals with Sriracha sauce.
Nonetheless, I muffled the glimmering voice of reason in me, and once again elected to "give up" sweets and snack between meals. I just love me all my spicy food too much.
Ironically, the sputtering oil episode, and for perhaps next several weeks, my ridiculously bandaged-up left hand, will be an annoying reminder of my intemperate love for chili sauce.