Sunday, July 21, 2013

Whose Hands Are These?

For the first time in I can't remember how many years I don't have red fingernails.  I went to the nail salon yesterday, it was time for a new set, and Kim suggested that she apply white tips and then just put a gel coat on for a different look.  I said okay, but now I'm not so sure.  I spent all of the rest of the day looking at my hands whenever I moved them around because they just look wrong.  It's not that I have anything against a French manicure exactly (except I've always thought it looked half-done) but I've had red polished nails forever--and now I don't.  It's only 3 weeks until time for fill-ins and then I can go back to red nails but until then I feel like I'm wearing somebody else's hands.  Freaky.  (thanks again to DS & DIL1 for the nail salon gift certificate they gave me for Mother's Day; I used the last of it yesterday) 

My decision not to go diving was reinforced when I had to haul all my stuff away and made my shoulder ache again.  Maybe I can go next month.  Stupid Home Depot sign. 

I got to go water the sod for DS & DIL1 yesterday and visited with the grand-chickens, Henny & Penny, but I forgot the bag of peels.  I'll take it on Tuesday.  They are in their new permanent enclosure with the fancy, roomier coop that the kids built.  It's very nice with 2 nest boxes and it's insulated so the ladies will be warmer in the winter.  DS & DIL1 are talking about getting 2 more hens.  I wonder what they'll name them?

July 21--Claude Monet, Camille Monet on a Garden Bench.  His gaze weighed on her, always sliding over her, measuring her.  She wished she could wash it off like you wash off a stain.  The large green and white ball bounced once at her feet and a small boy clattered up to her.  "Pardon, madame," he said, darting between the legs of the easel as he went shouting back to his mates.  The artist tore his gaze away from her for a moment to watch the boy back to his game and the relief of it nearly toppled her off the bench.

That's what comes from writing in a stupor.  As soon as I lay down I fell asleep and woke about 30 minutes later to scribble those few words and turn out the light.  It's still and overcast today and not hot.  So not hot that I took a picture of Durwood's Father's Day gift--a digital weather station--showing that it was cooler outside than in this morning.  Woohoo!  You East Coasters, the cooler is coming.

No comments: