My instinct was to call this post "Mama went to Naples and All I Got Was This Gnarly Finger," but that's a mouthful. Besides, messages like that are best saved for souvenir t-shirts. Flamenco Dad warned me against posting a photo of my finger on my blog for two reasons. One, my finger looks icky. Two, this is supposed to be a food blog, and looking at this thing wouldn't make anyone want to eat anything. I then had a flashback to one of my dormmates in college who, while she was learning to rollerblade, would sit there are proudly show us each and every one of the scabs she got from her various rollerblading injuries. Even while we were eating in the dining hall. Seriously.
Long story short, I was helping my mom with one of the sliding doors which apparently could not close properly. We figured something was blocking either the track or the lock. While I was examining the lock to see if there was anything obstructing it, my mom used all her might to slam the door shut--not realizing that my index finger was in the way. So you see, my finger then became said obstruction. I screamed something that I have never in all my 34 years said in front of my mother in front of her, my kids, and my GRANDMA! Oh the horror! Thankfully, miraculously, my finger is not broken(though it does still hurt). My fingernail is purple/black in color, and it would appear that my fingernail is not long for this world. On the bright side, next time I paint my nails it looks like I'll only have to paint nine instead of ten.