I spent an hour getting an overdue pedicure while Claire got a set of nails. When we were done she stood there admiring her hands while I paid the tab -- with her money. She said "Mom, why don't you ever get your nails done? I've never seen you with a set of painted nails." I didn't answer that question. I just held out my hands.
Enough said. If I purchased a set of nails, they would be destroyed in about 20 minutes. My hands look like this all the time -- and sometimes there is dirt, from working in the garden, or band aids from a culinary incident. They may not be beautiful, but they know how to knit a sweater, write a note of thanks, and give a hug to someone they love.
I like them just the way they are.
3 stopped by to say hello.:
Awesome. Your hands and my hands could definitely be friends.
Hands that tell who you are and what you love are the most beautiful kind. Mine say I love biting my nails and neglecting my cuticles. Hmm.
Love it. Have you seen my Mom Hands post?
http://www.lyndsayjohnsonblog.com/2009/03/mom-hands.html
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