And then she yells from the kitchen - "I'm alright!!"

I've spent the last couple hours getting together a bday cake for T.
I am making a similar one to last year's lemon blueberry cake with white chocolate frosting . . . I am adding raspberries.

ANYWAYS. I have a history of klutziness. My father's UNironic nickname for me is Grace . . . for more than one reason. If I ever decided to exercise my second amendment right, I would probably shoot myself in the armpit...or somewhere equally ridiculous and impossible.

My kitchen is not huge...two people in there can work, as long as there is good communication and not too many elbows (or large knives) flying around. But, it's not big by any means. So, I'm standing in front of the sink (back to the fridge, oven behind me to the right). The oven timer starts beeping. Time to take out the cakes.

But wait! My hands are covered with icing! Ack! Grab a towel! BEEP BEEP BEEP!!

Back up to hit the timer button and RUN the back of my ankles SMACK into the open oven drawer...which throws off my balance. I'm about to topple over headfirst into the marble countertop behind...but manage to throw a wrist up and somehow catch myself enough against the top cabinets to not fall over. Also...I miraculously managed to miss placing my hand palm down on the extremely hot cooktop right below the cabinet I DID grab.

All of this made a huge noise: metallic banging from the drawer and cursing from yours truly. And then, lest Sibling in his room think I've done myself in, I yell out "I'm alright!" Thinking that he would come running out to check on his poor klutz of a sister...I only start to crack up myself when I hear his feeble attempt at holding back laughter and a week "Glad to hear it!" coming from down the hall.

I think I need my own personal bubble-wrap-protector-suit. Either that, or everything ELSE needs to be bubble wrapped for me.

I'm going to go ice my wrist now.