What do you want on your Tombstone?

A major streak ended today, and this one had nothing to do with consecutive blog posts. I managed to eat a pizza for lunch without burning the roof of my mouth. This might seem like a simple thing, but I think I've burned my mouth eating oven-cooked pizzas every time since ... oh ... high school. And considering I typically eat a couple of them a week nowadays, that's a lot of first- or second-degree burns. In fact, I really shouldn't have any feeling left on the roof of my mouth at all. I don't know what's so hard about waiting 3 minutes after it comes out of the toaster, but it's a skill that has escaped me for years. I think it's part of a larger problem, though. If Superman has Kryptonite, then I've got heat. It's my weakness. If I get to close to it, I'm going to get burned ... literally ... in a couple various ways. I've already mentioned the pizza example. Then there's the fact that I rarely escape a cooking or baking excursion in the oven without burning a finger or my hand on a hot surface. It has nothing to do with my cooking ability. The food usually turns out fine. My fingers, often, do not. And ever since I was a child, I've always sunburned very easily. Too easily. I guess it's what I get for being the prototypical Aryan specimen. Such is my lot in life. This one, I've learned to cope with. That entails sealing myself with sunscreen whenever I have plans to set foot in the sun and reapplying, oh, every hour or so. But the others -- I think I'll just learn to live with them. Either that, or invest in some really good oven mitts.