I've got a thorn in my side.
OK, it's a splinter. And it's in my foot. But that splinter in my foot has become a thorn on my side.
Let me just (try to) explain, since it's the end of November and freezing cold out, how I got a splinter in my toe. It's not exactly barefoot weather. But two things make that untrue for me. First, I use the grill for certain foods, no matter the weather, and second, the best lighting for recipe photography is out on my back deck. Sometimes I'll put shoes on, like a normal person, other times, like if it's just to flip over the Grilled Orange Balsamic Salmon, I'll get lazy and just run out there barefoot.
Which is what I did this time. And got punished with a splinter in my big toe.
Not usually a big deal, I can often just work the top layers of skin with a pin and gently ease it out. This one was more difficult. Not only did it go in straight up and down (so deeper) as opposed to at a more workable angle, but that made it harder to see.
So I worked at it. With a pin the first day, with tweezers the second, then with both together. After a shower so the skin was softer, and I even tried a nail clipper.
Thorn on my side.
The "thorn in my side" saying has biblical roots, both in the Old Testament and New Testament. There are also nuances as to the interpretation. The thorn can be seen as a reminder from G-d to remain humble. But it has also been interpreted as a message, sent from Satan.
I'm going with the Satan thing.
Now I'm not a proponent of bee stings, far from it. Last summer, College Boy stepped out the front door and onto a bee that was apparently on the door mat and got stung on the toe. It hurt. A lot. And then it stopped hurting.
But a splinter that has mastered the art of subterfuge, secreting itself, and avoiding eviction? That's a problem.
It's a problem for two reasons. One, because I can feel it when I walk, but especially because it becomes most uncomfortable when I'm standing for long periods of time. Like when cooking or baking.
Honey Mustard Chicken Casserole
Second, a piece of wood in your flesh can be a vehicle through which bacteria can make a trek into your blood stream. OK, maybe that's extreme, but it's possible. And clearly this little sliver has worked its way into my headspace.
So yes, (sing it with me) Poison warned us, way back in the 80s, to beware, That "every rose has its thorn." But what has become painfully clear to me, is that not every thorn, at the very least, comes with a rose.
Like the one in my side.
And my toe.
Honey Mustard Chicken Casserole
©www.BakingInATornado.com
5 slices deli black forest ham
2 cups fresh spinach
1/2 cup mayonnaise
3 TBSP sweet hot honey mustard
1 TBSP pepper jelly
2 TBSP honey
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp pepper
3/4 cup shredded mozzarella
Directions:
*Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Grease an 8 X 11 baking dish.
*Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Grease an 8 X 11 baking dish.
*Cut the chicken into bite sized pieces. Spread into the baking dish. Chop the ham. Sprinkle over the chicken, followed by the spinach.
*Whisk together the mayonnaise, mustard, pepper jelly, honey, salt and pepper. Pour over the spinach, then top with the cheese.
*Cover and bake for 1 hour.
Oh honey, i'd be at urgen care having them dig it out!
ReplyDeleteThat sounds infinitely more painful than just ignoring it.
DeleteA splinter can be so painful and easily become a thorn in one's side so to speak. I use to get them often when i was a child running around barefoot and would have to get mum or dad to remove said splinter so not to get infected
ReplyDeleteYes, I got them a lot as a kid too, this is the first one I've had in quite a long time.
DeleteOuch and double ouch. After a few tries I'd be limping to urgent care. I'd be afraid of an infection and I am allergic to a number of antibiotics and also sulfa drugs - not a good thing.
ReplyDeleteNo urgent care for me. So far, anyway.
DeleteI actually went to an urgent care once to have a splinter in my foot removed. I walked in with a lot of pain, but walked out feeling much better.
ReplyDeleteGlad you found the relief you needed.
Delete