Why is Rachel Ray telling me a drunk story about her mother?

I am watching the Food Network (as per usual) and Rachel Ray's 30 Minute Meals was just on. She was making a Limoncello Tart and it looked AMAZING. However, halfway through she launches on this story about her first "group" date with her now-husband, where her mom got drunk off of Limoncello (who brings their mom on a date?) and now RR's husband calls RR's mom "Mamacello".

I'm sorry I just wasted a minute of your life. That was definitely the abridged version, too.

But hey, if you've come this far, you might as well waste a couple of more minutes in your life, because it's not like you have important things to do like study or support your family or end world hunger. All those things I don't do.

Anyway, The huge wound on my knee is healing alright. My hand wound, however is festering. I realized yesterday that it was infected due to my keen medical knowledge. And the fact that it hurt really bad, was red in the skin around the wound, oh yeah, and had yellow pus-like material oozing out when I removed the band-aid. (Bet you don't want that Limoncello Tart anymore, eh?)

So I headed to HEB for the quaint grocery selection of:
Ice Cream
Something for Dinner
Something to heal the raging infection coursing through my veins

Piece of cake. Or, you, know, Limoncello Tart.

Anwyay, I stood in the First Aide aisle in HEB, buying hydrogen peroxide, iodine, guaze strips, this weird waterproof medical tape, epsom salts (to soak my hand in. I had no idea it had laxative properties. I was extremely embarrassed at the register, as I imagined the cashier thought I had ALL kinds of issues.), and a first aide kit. Because I should really not have to buy band-aids when I'm already bleeding.

Plus, if I ever go camping like the kids on the front, I'll be totally prepared for complete isolation, starvation and frostbite!!! There's even a page in the little first aide booklet that talks about what to do if part of you gets accidentally amputated. My response would be to cry, faint, and beg God to take me home; but apparently you're supposed to seal the wayward limb in a waterproof bag and put it on ice, making sure it doesn't get wet or freeze. (Hey, you actually learned something by reading my blog today! 5 Gold Stars!)

...Gross.

I felt so grown up buying things like hydrogen peroxide (3% concentration, for first aide purposes. I'm not going blonde.) I have an injury, I identified it as infected, I bought the appropriate materials, and treated myself. I'm so independent!

I was hit with a big wave of nostalgia as I poured the hydrogen peroxide on my knee. (Man I wish I knew the chemical symbols of Hydrogen Peroxide so that I didn't have to keep typing the whole name. HPe0. Or something.) I distinctly remember the brown HPe0 bottle in my mom's linen closet, remember her treating me and helping me heal wounds with it. And here I am doing it myself.

I guess I'm not a little girl anymore.

Except that I bought batman bandaids and still watch Nickelodeon.