|From spare time|
This is my left hand. It says that I'm married to a wonderful hubby who loves me. It says that I'm pasty white and the only reason I go outside is so that the puppies' bladders don't explode. It says that I believe in the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, and that I'm not really afraid of needles, or being labeled (which, by the way, I told Lula that I would tell the harrowing drama of my tattoo one day, and I will, just not today). If you look closely, it says that I keep my fingernails short (a spill-over from the decade during my childhood in which I played piano and had to keep them trimmed at all times). If you saw it in person, you'd see that I have small fingers (as in, when I picked up my wedding band from the jewelers, he asked me if it was a child's ring) which is fine since I'm just barely over 5' tall. You can't really tell in this picture, but at the moment the fingernail on my ringfinger has a small dent in it from where I nearly sliced my finger open the other day (thank you Jesus for giving us fingernails!). If you flip it over, there's still a faint remnant of the callouses that used to inhabit my hands at the base of my fingers from the years that I was a gymnast.
Well, I suppose that's about the extent of what this hand'll tell you... Anyway... Have a happy day!
***Seven years ago today, I was sitting in Physics, waiting for Dr. Bottrell to start class. He walked in, turned on the tv and said, "Some things are much more important than Physics". I haven't forgotten.***