“You don’t want to cut these too small,” she was saying. “And don’t add them too early, or they’ll turn to mush. Always remember that— OUCH!” The next thing I knew, Wendy dropped the knife and cradled her hand to her middle. I rushed into the kitchen, snatching a dish towel from a wooden ring near the sink. “Here, let me see that,” I said, extending the towel to her. “No, not that one!” she said when she saw the towel. “It’s decorative!” I recoiled, tossed the towel on the counter and reached for another. “Not that one either,” she said. “It’s also decorative.” “Okay, but your fingers aren’t,
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