It's only a flesh wound...

...but the genetic makeup that created this situation is being reconstituted and handed down a generation as we speak. What exactly is going on in the picture above, you ask? I'm cooking dinner. You don't cook dinner attired so carefully? Well if my father and husband were "helping" you - then you might.

My mother left the house for twenty minutes. I was making dinner for the family that night. I mentioned that I needed a pan - a cast iron skillet. Chaos ensued. The giant skillet my Dad retrieved needed to be cured - the curing handled by Dad & Andrew (a butane torch was involved) smoked the house up and set off fire alarms. The pan was then so hot that the oil shot out at least five feet in all directions as I tried to cook the lamb chops. The dynamic duo then "fixed" the situation by suiting me up as a Monty Python Knight. Mustard seeds may still be embedded in my skin from the incident.

I'm told that this doesn't necessarily happen to other families. Some families can just cook a dinner or take on a project. Not mine. And now I'm bringing another person to the fun. It will be interesting to see how our daughter decides to carve her own niche in this traveling circus. Will she use a blow torch? Will she cut out her place with sarcasm and irony? I know she'll find our troupe more than willing to smooth her path and make her welcome. I wonder when she'll first notice that we're not exactly normal? I hope she learns to laugh and take pride in who we are. We may be a little crazy and do things our own way, but I know that my baby will be loved and accepted for whoever she wants to be.