Memories of motorbikes, meals, dogs and jobs
The scar on my chin -- not currently visible because it's under my beard -- is a reminder that it's not a good idea to drink mass quantities of alcoholic beverages right before operating a motorcycle. (I have a full-coverage helmet now, too.)

The scar on my left index finger serves as evidence that utility knives are quite sharp. I learned that particular lesson when I had a summer job covering houses with aluminum and vinyl siding. I was trimming a piece of siding while standing on a scaffold just under the eaves of a two-story house; the knife slipped and I cut a deep gash about an inch long, stopping at the second knuckle. I swore, shook my hand, and painted a long streak of blood down the baby-blue siding.

In the middle of the back of my left hand and just behind my left thumb are a couple of jagged scars that I got when trying to break up a fight between my Labrador Retriever, Pantone Black, and my neighbor's dog, Lucas, Prince of Darkness. Lost a nice pair of deerskin gloves during that episode, too. (My dog won, no thanks to me.)

My right hand was relatively unblemished until a few months ago, when an experimental Chicken Marsala recipe splashed hot grease onto my wrist. I really should get a lab coat for the kitchen....
( katzenfinch, Sat 5 Feb 2005, 19:30, Reply)