There are moments in ones life when something happens and one says to oneself - "self, what the f*** where you thinking". There are definitely times like that. Yesterday afternoon was one of those times.
Skype has literally transformed some of my relationships with friends and family back in the US. My friend Jen and I talk every week on the same day. If I look sad, she notices my expression and probes to find out whats bothering me. She tells me that for her, it doesn't seem real that I've moved so far away. We are sharing as much of our lives if not more than before. My sister and I also talk regularly. She turns the video cam in her Mac towards Dudley so I can say hello to him and watch him chew on a bone. I do the same as Utta is inevitaby by my side snoring, chewing or grunting. Rachel and I have been talking even more lately. She and Rey decided about a month ago to have a destination wedding next May here in Argentina. Woo HOO!!! It will be small - 30 people or so. Everyone will fly to Buenos Aires, hopefully spend some time here and the wedding will take place over a few days celebration at the La Candelaria estancia where I went for my birthday this year.
So, yesterday we were chatting along about the details of the big day (obviously I'm helping with a lot of the coordination and acting as go-between with the estancia people who don't really speak english).
Last week I purchased "Novias" - Argentina's two inch thick bridal magazine - to provide names of vendors for tuxedo rental, djs and the like. Rachel and I had a date to talk at 4pm my time - 11am her time. I was all prepped. Pillows propped up on the single bed in the back quiet bedroom (Hugh in the living room enjoying the output of the new NFL sunday package on directv), heated water for mate, Utta on the bed at my feed and dialed up SF.
We were chatting along as usual but this time, she dialed my mom in San Diego on her cell phone, put her on speaker phone and then laid the phone next to the Mac microphone so that the three of us could talk at once. We wished her a happy 60th.
My mate water was still cooling off and I'd left the thermos top off. The sacred rule of mate preparation is to heat the water to only 82 degrees - just before boiling. Any warmer and the water will burn the leaves and ruin the taste, not to mention scalding the crap out of your tongue. Normally, I stand over the teapot watching fastidiously so that I pull the water from the flame at just the right moment. Well, today I was rushing around before the call and forgot my water on the stove. When I finally ran over to turn it off it had already been boiling for a few minutes. Damn. no time to start over. So, I'll just put the water in the thermos with the lid off to let it cool back down to 82 degrees (a risky proposition but perpetrated by the mate novice from time to time).
I decided at some point in the conversation to show my sister the picture of Argentine weddings from the Novias Magazine - so she could see some of the styles of dresses and tuxedos - also to show Rey who was standing nearby. With the Mac balanced on my lap, Utta at my feet carving a bone, the Novias 10 pound magazine in my right hand....I quite stupidly chose that very moment to pick up the mate thermos filled to the top with scalding hot (boiling remember) water and attempt the multi-tasking feat of showing my sister the magazine photo while at the same time, preparing my first sip of mate from the hopefully cooled off water.
Well, as you may have surmised by now, all went horribly wrong. Computer starts to tilt and slide off my lap, magazine weighing heavily in my arm and absent mindedly as my body tilts to the right side, to save the computer and magazine from ultimate peril of landing softly on the bed, the open thermos in my left hand follows the sideways tilt of my torso and gushes out like the Iguazu Falls onto the bed beside me, soaking the bedspread and sheets and quickly finding its way underneath my right upper thigh. I was wearing a juicy couture knock off sweatsuit, but the water quickly penetrated the fabric to touch raw skin on my backside.
I tried in that moment of contact to do everything at once. Hop up from the bed to get away from the scalding water, detach myself from the computer (had earphones plugged in for better reception) without literally flinging it across the room, scream for help, and get Utta off the bed and away from the water. Hugh burst in to see what was happening. I ran out of the room wailing and immediately planted myself on the bidet - hoping the cool water might relieve the already burning sensation on my leg. Not nearly cold enough. next idea. Hugh jumped on the Skype call to get advice from Nurse Rachel. "Go immediately to the farmacia - she needs burn cream and keep it as cool as possible - use ice!". I was hoping around the house - by this time in my underwear, just howling. The dog poor thing was terribly confused and scared. Hugh brought me a towel full of ice cubes which felt immediately good on my skin. He rushed out to the pharmacy and I went back to my call with Rachel - talking and rubbing ice on the burn for the next 30 minutes. I knew it was going to be bad but I'd never quite burned myself like this before. A few hours later, it got worse and a huge horror film blister emerged. Today I'll visit the ER to make sure nothing gets infected. The spanish verb for burn is "quemar". Me queme. I burned myself. I am going to use that word a lot this week.
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