Red hot stick meets upper lip.

Corn cobs roasting on an open fire. Mommy sipping on a beer. "Help me, help me," being sung by a Cupcake. And flaming stick strikes my lip.

Okay, so it doesn't make a very good carol, but it makes a pretty good story. It's a good thing I love my little Cupcake to pieces. And it's a darn good thing that this was a complete accident on her part too. She just wanted me to shove another pre-cooked, 1/2 cob of corn onto her roasting stick so she could roast another one like her sisters and friends. The glowing end of the stick got me, thankfully, just above my lip and not in my eye. The bummer about burning an upper lip is that you just can't help but smell the burning flesh and hair. Fortunately, the friends with the fire pit also have an impressively stocked liquor cabinet, and we quickly switched it up a notch from beer to Bourbon which helped with both the throbbing pain and the burning smell.

And then my friend Jessie put it all in perspective when she got a much bigger boo-boo on her face the next day. Stitches, swelling, smashed teeth, black eye. Beautiful face meets jammed greenhouse door in a hurry, but that's her story to tell. Let's just say that Jessie will probably be a lot more careful closing the greenhouse doors on the farm from now on.