We all make mistakes. It's part of learning, living, and growing. A couple of weeks ago I decided to glue a handle on a delicate teacup that belongs to my daughter. Since I do pottery, people are often asking me what a good glue is for doing these kinds of projects. And truth be told, I don't glue much of my own stuff. If it's broken, I just make another. And over the years I haven't found a glue that I've loved for repairing ceramics. Well, I decided to use the Krazy glue since I'd heard it works well. There's something about me you may not know about. I don't read instructions unless I try first and fail. I'd rather use the method of "just go for it." So using my well-developed method, I glued the pieces together and while I tried to adjust the cup handle, set my fingers down on our beautiful granite countertop. One instant later my fingers would not budge from the counter. I was glued to it. However the handle was not glued to the tea cup. Now I had one hand free and one hand glued to the counter. I could not reach my phone, so I read the instructions on the tube.
The instructions warned, "instantly bonds skin." Okay so that information might have helped me earlier. Then there was a list of things to do in case you did bond skin. Although I had all the necessary things to free myself. I could not move to get the nail polish remover or warm soapy water. Immediately my mind went to Aron Ralston. You might recall that he's the young man who cut off his own arm after being trapped by a large boulder in a slot canyon in Southern Utah. Before Aron cut off his own arm, I have no doubt that he thought of all the tools he might have brought had he known ahead that he might find himself in such a predicament: surgical tools, tourniquet, huge bandages, and high doses of pain killer. Even though I knew the consequences between Aron and I were proportionally different, we did face a similar dilemma. He had to cut off his arm to save his life. I would have to cut off my fingers to save mine. Okay that's not true, but I might have to rip my hand away and leave behind a layer of skin. Not a pleasant thought. Fortunately, my favorite man drove up the drive before I reacted in such a desperate way. It still took us about thirty minutes to free my fingers. I'd like to say that from here on out, I'll read the instructions first--but I kind of doubt it. Living life, one mistake at a time, is just the way of things.