All thumb(s).

The sun came out on Easter. Thank goodness, because my sisters and their families came over, and that means six kids six and under, and being able to hang out on the playground and ride around on bikes, scooters, and tiny pink cars helped keep my modest-sized home from feeling like a crowded closet strewn with toys. And it was warm outside, which was delightful. Jeff and Michael, and Todd, in fact, spent most of the day in the Adirondack chairs on our side patio. We were enjoying sangria and beer and listening to Justin Timberlake on Rhapsody while the kids romped around, and that was when Liz and her family came by for a playground visit on their way around the block.

And here's Marley tearing down the street in her riding gear (a shiny red helmet and glittering fairy wings), while her buddy Will makes do with a three-wheeled Princess scooter.

The real story of the day, however, because it's all about me, was the thumb injury I sustained while slicing potatoes with a mandolin. And yes, I was using the guard. And I had just exclaimed, "I LOVE this thing!" because of the perfectly even 1/8" thick slices of russet potatoes I was piling into a bowl for my scalloped potatoes. You should know that the food was in no way compromised, because there was that five-second period before I started bleeding, and I had time to cover my wound and then thoroughly clean the mandolin before wrapping myself up and getting ready to power through.

First, I ran to the bathroom where Todd was in the shower and told him, "I cut myself. On the mandolin." He poked his head around the curtain, worried. "Like, hospital?" And then I said, "Well, if I were Top Chef Jamie, yes."

I just wrapped it tighter, though, and then rewrapped it a few times more as the gauze soaked up blood. Eventually, it was tight enough to last the rest of the holiday, after about twenty to thirty minutes of whimpering and whining while getting the potatoes in the skillet with fresh bay leaves, nutmeg, and asiago cheese; basting the ham with a pineapple-ginger-apricot-lime glaze; and starting a parmesan-carrot risotto. I mention the food in detail because, at that point, I was treating our Easter lunch as my own personal Elimination Challenge. With sous chef Todd to assist.

After everybody left and the Celtics game started, I unwrapped my thumb to check it again, and once it was uncovered, it just started bleeding all over again. Which makes sense, because I was missing a small chunk of my thumb, a wedge about an 1/8" deep, to be exact. And I didn't think I would qualify for stitches, but I wondered if an ER doctor could glue me or cauterize me or something, because the whining that I mentioned earlier was not about the pain, but the next two or so weeks of healing that I envisioned. Me with a wrapped thumb at boot camp, changing Rudy's diapers, doing the dishes, everything, without a usable thumb on my right hand.

Todd called and found out there wasn't a wait at the hospital down the road, and I left before the first quarter ended. I got a tetanus shot, and some special foam stuff (so technical) applied to the wound to staunch the bleeding, and then a very fancy, very dramatic wrap job. I was home before the end of the third quarter and the Celtics' sweep of the first round of playoffs.

And today is day one of Giant Gauze Thumb. I made it through push-ups at boot camp, and I cleaned the house while Beanie was at preschool, and I'm even typing without a ridiculous amount of trouble. But, I've also been walking around like the Fonz all day. And now I'm off to lacrosse and then week seven of SAT prep, which involves extra writing on the board to help the class with notes for review. With Giant Gauze Thumb.

At least, I think, Tom Colicchio and Padma Lakshmi would've told me that the potatoes were delicious. And there was lemon cheesecake, too. It woud've been better not to gauge my thumb, of course, but also, at least it was sunny and warm for most of the day. You get what you get.