I’ll never model bracelets.

I learned how to cook by watching my dad prepare family meals. I don’t recall ever actually flipping a pancake or shaping burgers.  I think if he ever did give me a chance to almost ruin one of his masterpieces, I’d of learned that pans right out of the oven are hot and that pot holders are not just for decoration. The most I was ever allowed to do was stir the meatballs or put on a pot of water for spaghetti. If he let me actually cook as a kid, I don’t think I’d burn myself as much as I do as an adult.

Not my parents wall oven.

not my actual evil waffle iron

I grew up “cooking” with a gas oven. The oven was in the wall so the heating elements were out of reach…being that they were either too high up or too low.  I have an electric stove/oven that sits on the floor. So now, when I reach in to check on cookies or flip Texas toast, my arm manages to hit either the top rack (ow) or the top heating element (major ow). The first time, my left hand hit the element just where my thumb meets my wrist. Just as that burn faded away I went ahead and burned my left forearm on the damn thing. People think I have a birthmark that burn was so bad.

Last week, I burned myself twice. Mid-week on the top oven rack on my right forearm when I reached in to check on what turned out to be a fantastic stew and this past Saturday on my inner right forearm when I reached behind my waffle iron to pull the plug out of the wall. So now, my arm looks like it got caught in a pizza oven with burns on both sides.

And the pot holders just lay there laughing at me.

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