Blood on the Bread

Today’s word: Laldie:n: a thrashing . V.t. gie it laldie “pursue something vigorously”.

It is a fact universally acknowleged that a frenzied woman in possession of a well-sharpened knife must be in want of an excuse.

If said woman is mulling over sundry facts in her life (that have nothing to do with slicing through neatly stacked bread) she might also say to herself: ‘you had better slow down, or someone’s gonna get hurt!’

As Ed Brown says in How To Cook Your Life: “when you cut the carrots, cut the carrots
How can something sound profound and be so damn simple?

Several minutes later, this kind of woman cam congratulate herself on NOT creating the scenario she so vividly imagined, when a swift paper thin sensation burns her finger. Somehow the finger crept in too close during the self congratulatory “we’ve made it home” moment. The one where you’ve undone your helmet at the bottom of the street, or undone your seat belt for the last few blocks, what is UP with that?

But hey, no one saw!
Finish up the job. Stir in milk, eggs, vanilla, cinnamon, orange peel… unfurl (recycled) cooking parchment, only good two times damn it but saves so much water in the wash-up..

Shove tray into oven (bread pudding couldn”t you tell?) . Notice red smudges on oven mitt. More on side of pink plastic mixing bowl. Oooh drip on the bread board, red streak on the linen towel (featuring Scots dialect). Smears on pajama pocket.

Every one of the blotches points to that basic fact that a loose mind needs SOMETHING to focus on, and a minor nick is as good as anything else. It sure beats Mr. Johnson’s character thinking about his own hanging.

I am a veteran of self-slashing during times of high stress (pre-wombat camp, grating and dicing food for 20 hungry riders, whoops! Where’d that blood in the cilantro come from?)
Wouldn’t you think that such swift punishment would teach me a lesson after one or two cuts?
You would. But you would be wrong.

I have not decided why I don’t learn.
It can’t be because throbbing phalanges are fun reminders of one’s flakiness.
That attribute is so wonderful in pastry, and so unwanted in people.

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