Wednesday, March 23, 2011
on hands and rambling
so, like any good blogger, i took a picture of my hand, the middle finger of my left hand, to share with you the pretty pretty bruise i'm wearing but not until after i made sure to lavish on some lotion because that first shot i took was lotion free and well, that was kinda a scary hand in that shot. so i did my darndest to pretty up the hand and i didn't care that i'm only mostly dressed for the day (it is raining after all and the mister has the car) and no my socks are not unmatching, they are miss-matched and it was as i was taking my oh-so-glamourous hand shot (which reminds me of another story of how i used to tell people i was either a hand model or an earring model when they asked what i did for a living) that along with the sad state and pudginess of my hands i could see a trace amount of silver paint along the right thumb as if i held hands with the Tin-Man. it made me stop and look a little more close at these hands of mine and i thought to myself, pudge and all that these are my hands. they have done so much, and far too little all at the same time. they are soft at times and calloused at others. they hold scars which hold stories and pencil lead (which tell two more stories) and hangnails and teethmarks from the witch-baby. they are strong hands, crafting hands, sewing hands and baking hands. they are hands that attempt things and reattempt things like crochet and ukulele playing. they are hands that doodle and sketch and draw and drum impatiently when i am bored, bored, bored. they are hands that cannot type very well or tie knots very well but they are mine, each dent, bump, soft spot and pudge...mine all mine and sometimes they are the mister's as well as we hold on to each others' through thick and thin wearing our rings with Looney Tunes quotes...
these hands, pudge and all, bruise and all, are pretty good hands. if i do say so myself.