A Memory

One of my strongest childhood memories is not actually something that happened to me but something I read. It was in one of the Ramona Quimby books (possibly Ramona and Her Father) by Beverly Cleary. In it, one of the adults was making a grated carrot salad, and whenever they made the salad, Ramona would watch very carefully in case the person grating the carrots scraped their hand and got blood in the salad. I think about this scene literally every time I use a grater.

In other news, today I sliced my knuckle while grating cheese. Not too badly, not enough to bleed in the cheese, but enough that it’s annoying.

Anyway, books are magic.