Happy Hands

I forgot my riding gloves and somehow rubbed all the skin off my knuckles during my horseback riding lessons today. I currently am typing rather gingerly, as bending my raw knuckles is no day at the spa. It's a funny thing, these hands of mine. I used to be sort of vain about them. My only good features are my long fingers and nice fingernails. For years I kept them perfectly manicured and protected from the elements. These days, I don't bother. Maintaining a manicure is impossible when you play the guitar, clean fish tanks at the Ocean Institute, and care for pets. Throw in an occasional callous from gardening, a baking-induced burn, a craft-related cut, and a spunky puppy with sharp puppy teeth. Add some bloody knuckles from horseback riding, and you've got yourself a fine mess.

Nonetheless, I think my hands look great. They can either be impeccably polished or useful, busy, and happy. I'll take the latter.