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I smashed my finger the other day, on a rock, a boulder really. It turns out to have been a blessing in disguise, since it is virtually impossible to over think much of anything when your finger is throbbing.

It’s really nice to rediscover your ability to focus on just one thing at a time….

My husband is an absolute professional when it comes to smashed fingers and he hardly ever goes a week without one. So naturally while I was hopping about and gritting my teeth,  he was full of lots of useful advice like, “you shouldn’t smash your finger, you have a lot of nerves in there!” That is one of those things that is technically true, but not particularly useful at the time.

Kind of like our theology sometimes! Your hermeneutics and exegesis are fabulous, but your bedside manner just leaves something to be desired. Unless you have some way to go back in time and help me unsmash my finger, your advice at the moment is not very helpful.

See, my ability to over think absolutely everything has now returned to normal. I may have to smash another finger…….

I jest, actually hubby was quite helpful, he offered me the hopping on one foot solution, the cursing up a storm fix, and the “just be patient, it will ease off eventually.” Finally he went with the, “just go for a drive and stick your finger out the top of the car window” idea.

That is surprisingly clever. I can see he’s done this before, because that actually works. When you stick your finger out the window, you are holding it above your heart and also icing it up in the cold air. That is precisely what you should do to help relieve some pain.

Somewhat amusing, I recently saw an ad for Starbucks new “unicorn frappe” and the first thing I thought of was my husband’s fingernails.  Don’t get me wrong, I love everything about him, including his smashed fingers, I just don’t particularly want to drink anything that makes me think of finger nails, or all the pretty colors one’s finger nails can turn, nor the way we wonder if the thing is going to repair itself or just turn black and fall off completely.

Ewww, I have now totally ruined my appetite, as if all those unnatural colors in a coffee drink were not already appalling. I am just saying, real men, manly men, don’t drink unicorn frappes, they actually wear it on their hands as proof and evidence of their great love, their sacrifice, their willingness to endure excruciating pain….and their issues with poor eye-hand coordination.

Just kidding, my husband has fabulous coordination. Well, I’m not kidding about the unicorn frappe at all. I suppose if nothing else, you could always just stick your smashed finger in it.

frappe

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