an apple a day.

Life is filled with ups and downs. One minute good, the next bad.  Sometimes this unsuspecting shift can be traumatic, life altering, catastrophic.  Other times it's as innocent as slicing off a piece of flesh while washing an apple slicer.  The good in this situation? The beautiful snowfall outside, my cozy new orange knit headband (purchased from a winery in Temecula), and the prospect of an afternoon watching Mad Men. 

The apple slicer and I are no longer friends. 


We've had this run-in before. I gave it a second chance. He blew it. Destroyed my trust. Even the apple I used it for was mealy, fairly disgusting. I should have known. 


Perhaps not our last encounter, but another memorable encounter with the apple slicer occurred while my teenage brother was baby-sitting me.  I was 5.  And apparently at 5, one believes that one can handle an object with not one sharp edge, but 8.  Incidentally I wanted an apple for a snack, I grabbed the slicer, placed the apple on the counter, and gripped the slicer firmly with both hands.  One mistake... I gripped the slicer a little too tight.  My tiny 5 year-old finger placed directly under the blade. I cut the apple, and with it, I cut my finger.  Lesson learned?  Evidently not.  Se la vie.