If you haven’t heard, Ken had some gnarly surgery on his hand a few weeks ago and I’ll just leave it at that. We took pictures of the wound to send to his doctor back home so he could see the progress and I really wanted to post one of them here but when I mentioned this to Ken, a low-pitched moan or was it a groan, came out of his mouth so I don’t think he wanted me to do that.
Anyfrankenfingerhoo, I’m telling you this because he has been taking painstaking (pun intended) measures to keep it out of harms way. The wound is still very painful and needs a while to heal yet. So we go out for a romantic dinner at this wonderful restaurant last night. I am like 5 sips into my first glass of wine and the server comes over to clear the table for appetizers and I guess she thinks my glass is empty because she literally turns it upside down and it lands all over Ken’s lap and splashes on his BANDAGED HAND. Because wine is my personal cure-all, I’m thinking it might have some healing properties but better sense comes over me and we just sit there with our mouths open. It happened so fast it was shocking. Of course the server was moooooortified. We were worried she might go to the kitchen and try to land on a knife, I forget what that’s called. My mom’s voice just popped into my head yelling, “Hari Kari!!!”, okay little lady, settle down.
Ken’s hand is fine and we had a really wonderful time in spite of the dousing.