and I didn't even faint!

when spook was younger, he used to get his Grandma cards with the specific intention of making her cry--in that nice way. Maybe he shouldn't have told me about it, because at times like my birthday, I suspect him of having residual make-her-cry tendencies. I suppose he did well to pick me as a life partner--my sentimental nature is famous. So when I got home from work on Saturday night to discover that he'd bought fuschia and apple-green balloons and hung them up all around our apartment, as well as getting me flowers even though it's a huge pain in the ass to keep the cats from knocking them over as he well knows but he also knows I love them...well, let's just say that tissue was involved. Little did I know about the sacrifice involved in lemon-coconut squares.

I was just beginning the arduous process of trying to cut still-frozen butter into a flour mixture with nothing but kitchen knives and determination when he said "Uh, I've cut myself." spook has a gift for understatement that is nothing less than astounding, and this could mean anything, including "Wow, my whole hand is missing." so when I said "Do you need a band-aid?" I wasn't clear whether I should be asking "Do you need a tourniquet?" It wasn't that dire, but there was an impressive amount of blood. Dishwashers, beware! Your new sharp knife that you used to hack the recalcitrant butter into smallish cubes may jump out of your hand and, well, land on your other hand. On the scale of good-with-injuries, I hover somewhere on the right side of useless, but they're not my best thing. I grabbed a dishtowel (yay, I had the presence of mind to get a clean one from the drawer) and said "You're going to wrap this around your finger and put pressure on it, and keep it above your heart." Then I went to the bathroom and got the bandaids. I managed to do it without alarming our guests. I got the bandaid wrapper off despite my really, really shaky hands, and all was well. I even went and washed the blood out of the dishtowel. As these lemon squares were not going to make themselves, we then resumed our baking.

Most of the way through mixing the filling, spook reports that he thought Why is there red food colouring there? We're not using--oh. What he said was "Uh, I might need another band-aid." I once again did not freak out at the sight of blood dripping over his whole hand, and instead went to retrieve the sterile surgical gauze we have in packets.

You'll be happy to know that after this incident, he was retired from the kitchen, and our somewhat disconcerted friends helped get the rest of the baking done. spook just sat and waved Mummy Finger in our direction until mr. pixie drew a little face on it. rrrrrrrr, Mummy Finger.

Although I wish to make it clear that a blood sacrifice is not necessary in honour of my birth, it was certainly impressive. And the lemon squares are really good.