Sighs and Hallelujahs Stories and thoughts about the adventures of life without arms

Slicing Strawberries

Tonight, as I washed and sliced a couple pounds of fresh strawberries, I considered the relative sense of fear that this headline would strike in my mother and some of you. Okay, maybe not my mom (although part of me thinks she'll still cringe at the headline). She's been around me enough to know that I know my way around a kitchen and am careful when using knives. Personally, I feel I cut myself or spill less often than most folks with two arms -- mostly due to considerable caution on my part.

(Side note: other than the warning from my mother of, "be careful around the stove; don't catch your sleeve on fire," I have yet to endanger myself in most of the ways my mom feared. Yes, I did once catch my sleeve on fire with a burner, but it wasn't quite a stop, drop and roll incident. Very little harm done, except for a destroyed shirt of course!)

Additionally, I received a related question over e-mail from one of the readers of this blog tonight. The question was more related to if I ever used a drive-thru window for fast food or coffee, but it made me consider that I actually prefer to cook my own meals... assuming I have the time and energy, both which I'm severely lacking as of late. Some of you may be thinking, "how in the world?"

If you've ever been to my place you'll remember seeing a bar stool in both the kitchen and the master bathroom. The reason for that, besides the very awkward design touch, is that I sit on them to allow me to use my feet for daily activities like brushing my hair and teeth, shaving, cooking, washing dishes, etc. Plus, the occasional slicing of strawberries. By sitting up high (nearly at counter level), I'm able to access most things with my feet; whether that be a glass or dish from the cupboard, the strainer off the top of my fridge, or items out of the fridge or freezer. Matter of fact, I don't really think about the unusual process of moving the stool around the kitchen much.

Considering the other things I do in the kitchen, I guess I'd say I use my feet like most would use their hands. To get things out of the oven, I pull an oven mitt over my foot and grasp the pan with my foot. To stir, I hold the bowl with my legs or feet and lean over to stir by holding a spoon or utensil between my chin and shoulder. I can crack an egg into a pan (most of the time minus the shell), flip items like pancakes or grilled sandwiches in a pan, and pour liquids into a measuring cup. And, boy, have I mastered the art of opening bottles of wine and pouring!

Granted, I'm no master chef. But, how many bachelors are? I have a limited repertoire of I things I truly make from scratch. Given what some would qualify as cooking these days, though, I do fairly well. My cooking abilities were enough to impress a girlfriend I had a couple years ago. I invited her and her friend over for dinner early on in the relationship and she was impressed that I made a baked chicken dish that included rice and cream of mushroom soup. Add to that a nice salad and wine, and I had a winning dinner. Later on in the relationship, though, she joked that little did she know then that this was the only thing I knew how to make!

Yes, I do wash my feet before I start cooking. And, yes, I still spill every so often and I drop an egg on the floor every few years. But, I do cook and I actually enjoy the process and time in the kitchen. I just hate cleaning up.

If you're still curious, then send me a note or post a comment here and I'll have you over for dinner. Although, now that I gave away my standard chicken recipe, I'll have to be creative in coming up with the plans for our meal!