Ray, in the kitchen, with the knife

Last year for his birthday Ray ordered a custom made chef's knife. He finally got it, and it's beautiful. It's also VERY sharp. he keeps it up high, with a protective sheath on it.

Today he told me he was excited to make dinner for tomorrow (beef stroganoff), because he could use his new knife. I thought to myself - I hope we don't end up at the hospital because he cuts off the end of his finger. I mentioned that he might want to be careful. He assured me he would be.

You can tell where this is going, can't you? When I was happily blogging away about my quilts, I heard a blood-curdling scream come from the kitchen. I got upstairs faster than I believed possible to see Ray holding his finger under running water. Not willing to examine the wound myself, I asked him if we needed to go to the hospital. He said he didn't think so. I didn't believe him for a second. I rapidly did an inventory in my mind: book, shoes, sweatshirt (it's always cold in a hospital). Yup, I could be ready to go in 30 seconds or less.

He lay on the couch, applying pressure and elevating his hand (I didn't take first aid 33 years ago for nothing). Then he moved onto our bed. After quite a bit of time he determined that steri-strips would do the job, and he didn't need to go to the hospital. So that's where it stands right now. Disaster averted. I hope.