In honor of my (almost) 1 year anniversary of the encounter with the knife, I thought I'd provide for you all what took place in my kitchen this year.
I was roasting a chicken with a metal-handled skillet in the 475 degree oven when all of a sudden the smoke detector went off. My kids were scared so I was running around opening windows and doors and fanning off the smoke detector. So much adrenaline was rushing through me after I took the chicken out of the oven that I forgot to grab a potholder for the handle before I placed it back in the oven. (The chicken wasn't burned, grease was just popping off of the chicken and smoking in the bottom of the oven.) All of that to say that I branded the side of my palm and roasted my pinkie and ring finger.
Moral of the story:
Stay away from Amy's kitchen in the month of September.