The one where I get burned, Jacob's ear rots off, and it's funny

A few months ago, my Rosey friend wrote the cutest narrative on her blog about her heart-shaped burn. She even put a picture on there (sure enough, it was shaped like a heart) and had a message of hope at the end. I love her and her stories, and I wish I could put a link to it on here, but since I still haven't figured out how, you can see for yourself at www.rosietheboo.blogspot.com. (Sorry you'll have to scroll to find it, but her blog's awesome and you'll probably thank me later.)

I thought of her the other morning when I got my own burn. I had been fixing pancakes for my family, and then I decided to scramble eggs in the same pan. Except, well, a pancake griddle has to be really hot. So when I dropped the egg into the pan, it basically exploded--cooked all the way through on contact with the skillet, and sent flames of pain up my left arm. At the same time my mouth was howling, my brain was hoping, HOPING, for some kind of marring that would be as poignant as a heart. Maybe a dove (signifying new life), or an olive branch to remind me that God keeps His promises.

It was with both fear and anticipation that I took my first peek. Shoot. It pretty much looked like a scalding--and one that extended in spots from wrist to elbow. Not only was it not cute--it was big. And it hurt. So much so, that for the first few days I kept it covered in Neosporin and wore loose, long-sleeved cotton blouses. No one at school noticed.

Today, though, I got brave and wore a 3/4-sleeved top. You would have thought I'd lost my arm, from all the sympathy I got. "Wow, Mrs. P! That's some arm! What happened?" I told the first couple of inquirers that I got burned cooking an egg, then got tired of that.

I realize that this is probably not funny, but I thought it would be to tease a bunch of the kids. I told one that I had contracted emphesema. I told another one that it was pneumonia. I told a teacher that it was cardiomyopathy (but she knew what that meant, and told me it looked more like scabies. Touche'.)

Anyway, that's my burn story. Almost. Except that in the meantime, another teacher on my team tore off his ear while he was unloading Christmas decorations from his attic. The doctors reattached it, but it has turned black and he is going to have to have it permanently removed. So he was teasing the kids, too, (unbeknownst to me) and asked one of my kiddos if he would donate his ear to replace the lost one. And my little guy told him, "Sir, you know I would, but I promised that skin to Mrs. P. so she could replace the inside of her arm since she has leprosy." And we all had the biggest laugh.