I used to be terrified of baking when I was a kid. The oven may as well have been the doorway to hell. I just knew, KNEW, that if I reached inside I would burn my entire arm off. It still makes me a little uncomfortable although that's more because I have a toddler pushing and shoving me into it and less because I think it's a wormhole to the underworld. But due to residual childhood oven fright, I almost always wear oven mitts...on each hand. It doesn't matter if my left hand isn't going to get anywhere near the oven, it should probably have a mitt. Just in case. In case of what, I'm not really sure. Maybe, like, if flames start shooting out or something. If you, like me, have a mild to moderate fear of ovens, buy yourself a Red Thing if only for this feature. Not only is there enough material to make Magic Scarf into a three or four layer oven mitt, there is enough left over to run it halfway up your arm. This allows for protection of both the hand and the forearm. In fact, it is quite possible that you would have enough material to protect your bicep as well. I doubt there is a bicep protecting oven mitt on the market. I'm not entirely sure why your bicep would be anywhere near getting burned, unless, of course, we had the aforementioned flames. The Red Thing also shrinks and stretches to accommodate any size hand and forearm. It just doesn't get any better than that.
My parents are flying in tonight for a visit and I can't wait. Neither can Garrett. When I ask him if he wants to see Grandma and Grandpa today he grunts and shoves another cracker in his mouth. That's toddler code for, "Of course, crazy lady, they're way more fun than you are." Although, where his language is concerned I am starting to be slightly less ohmygosh what's wrong with my child and why the heck won't he talk already. That's partly because last week he started saying the word home. I think that is a weird word to say when you only have about fifteen words in your repertoire but whatever, I'm not going to criticize. At Brian Head he said more for the first time. Although, it should be noted that when he says that particular word he sounds like he's from New York. And today, while walking through the grocery store, he suddenly got all up in a frenzy over the water cases. I said, "What the heck are you so excited about? The water?" To which he looked right at me and said, "wa-duh." Yes Garrett, all these words make a language. Welcome to it.
So we go to this study on Thursday nights. All along we've thought it started at 7:00 so that's when we get there. Straight up 7:00 every week. Come to find out, we've been getting there a half hour late. I hate late. I hate being late. I hate when other people are late (unless, obviously, there is a really good reason). It's a gigantic pet peeve of mine. Imagine my horror when I discovered that it was my own family who had been the culprit of tardiness. I'm still horrified. I might be over my extreme humiliation in a year or two. But I don't know. This one could hang on for life.