Monday, April 21, 2014

The Eye Has It

I've heard it said that bad things happen in threes. And although I've never met the originator of this statement, I've found it's usually true.

Saturday afternoon when I leaned over to toss something into a waste basket I received a small puncture wound to the forehead (and my pride) from a wire shelf in the doorless bathroom. It holds ducks.

Thing #1.

Late that night I was filling baskets and plastic eggs while listening to The West Wing on Netflix and keeping an eye on Andy's game on the laptop. By 12:30 I had nearly finished, the boys had won in extra innings with an inside the park grand slam, and Jed Bartlett was my hero once more. That's when I noticed I seemed to have something stuck in my bottom tooth. Which turned out to be a piece of my slightly chipped chomper. DANG CADBURY MINIS, YOU ARE DEAD TO ME.

Thing #2.

Easter morning arrived and we woke up thankful for the risen Saviour. And also for fresh crayons, fairy wands and flashing toothbrushes. I hopped in the shower after breakfast where I dropped the shaving cream on my foot. It still hurts.

Thing #3.

Right after the shower injury I had the fleeting thought of

Well, at least that's done.

Not so fast there, sister.

Because after getting everyone else bathed and raring to go, I casually strolled into the kitchen to get Easter lunch started. I had a solid two hours to make au gratin potatoes, green beans and get the ham on a platter. The other baseball gals that were coming were bringing the rest. No problemo.

And then I opened the ham.

Y'all, it was staring at me. At least I think it was. I wasn't really sure what was happening with this particular piece of pork so I took a picture and texted to some of my crew back home with the words

You all, my ham has an eye ball. This is not okay. At all. Send help.

At first there was banter about what the creepy object in the meat was. My friend Brandie's husband thought it might be an ovary. So that was good news. Seeing as I had touched it.  But I really just needed a consensus as to whether or not I could serve the ham. To my company. That was arriving in two hours.

The meat looks fine. It smells fine. It's just staring at me. Or ovulating. It could go either way at this point. Ain't nobody got time for this!

I knew when four different suggestions of four other things to eat (KFC, Papa John's, Walmart fried chicken and White Castle) came flying over the group text, that was a big fat no in regards to my 10 pound porker.

So I rounded up the children, told them we had a meat emergency and they calmly loaded themselves into the van. Without even flinching.

Either I'm more dramatic than I realized or they are shocked by nothing when it comes to my kitchen capers.

Don't answer that.

Thanks to the fine southern people here in Alabama, nothing was open. Because they were all in the house of the Lord. Or home eating blind hams. Which is what I was in desperate need of.


On my third try I found something that was open (thank you, Walmart Neighborhood Market) and purchased a replacement.

With no time to spare.

Now I am back home, not yet dressed, having never dried my hair and nothing is cooked.

To be clear, I had clothes on.

But I think you knew that.

Anyway, chopping potatoes, grating cheese and all manner of kitchen stuff was going down in a flurry when Lainey reminded me I hadn't hidden the eggs for the hunt yet.

I considered this issue for about 4 seconds and said


My whole parenting philosophy is to ensure that each precious child gets to live in a magic bubble full of whimsy and mystery for as long as possible.

Hey Lainey! Time's up, sister!

Turns out, my number is four, because the day was lovely. The girls were THRILLED to hide the eggs (Lainey recruited her sisters, she has serious leadership skills) and we had a great afternoon with some baseball friends.

After we finish some school work, the girls and I are headed back to Super Target to return my Easter ham.

I need to go anyway. 

You know, to get Neosporin, some Sensodyne and a pair of crutches. 


Okay, you had to know this was coming. I'm going to post a picture now. 

You've been warned.

It's almost too late to look back.....

Here it comes........

Heaven help me. It's just as disturbing now as it was yesterday.


  1. the photo won't load for me...which I think must be a good thing...and I should stop trying to make it happen...:O)

  2. Definitely looks like an internal organ of some sort. That might be a delicacy in Alabama....or not. Glad u didn't eat it!

  3. It looks cystic, Jessie, with a mixed clear & cloudy infiltrate. It's hard to tell where it originated from anatomically but hams generally are taken from the hocks of the pig, so nothing intrapelvic or intraabdominal could possibly have gotten in there. My money is on a parasite. Glad you didn't eat it.

  4. First of all, you crack me up! Second, ewwwww! Third, I hope you are feeling better. You sound just like me and my life. :). Miss ya, girl!