Showing posts with label fingernails. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fingernails. Show all posts

Monday, July 2, 2012

compliments from odd places

Last Thursday, I was talking care of errands prior to my weekend trip.

Stitch up the placket on my new purple and lime and chocolate blouse from Italy. The lovely ruffles cannot hide the gap caused by the curvature of my bosom, revealing my chocolate bra when it should remain hidden.
Done!
I'll wear it on Saturday at the workshop!

Wash clothes, including newly stitched blouse.
Done!
Plenty of clean clothes for the trip, and after!

Get manicure. Get my first manicure EVER.
Done!
The manicurist couldn't believe it was my very first one. She also couldn't believe I only wanted clear coat on the nails and not any color. But hey, I was the customer, and the customer is always right, right? Absolutely!
And now my nails, my naturally white-tipped nails, are all the same length and almost distract me from typing. Wild!

Drop off wedding gown at the dry cleaners to see if it can be salvaged.
Done!
The dress had been out in the shed and had "age spots" on it, especially noticeable on the high-low, creamy, peau satin skirt of the gown. I know exactly what the material is because I made the gown twenty years ago. It was the last thing I ever sewed. Long story.
The young woman at the counter called the owner over to look at the damage and assess whether it could be removed. The woman handled the fabric, noticing that there were no tags. 'Was it custom made?'
'Yes, it was. I made it myself.'
Incredulous, admiring looks, at the dress, at me. 'And what kind of fabric is it? Is there any silk?'
'No, ma'am, no silk at all. That fabric is too difficult to sew. The dress is satin and lace and pearl buttons, with the skirt being peau satin.'
'Beautiful work', she told me. 'We can't promise we'll be able to get all of the spots out, but we'll try. It's going to take a few weeks, because it has to be done in stages. Is that going to be okay?'
'Oh, yes, that will be fine. Just let me know when it's done.'
'We'll take good care of it. You really did beautiful work on it.'
So, I thanked her and left, amazed that this stranger had made such a point of complimenting me on my work as a seamstress. Lately, I find myself looking at fabric. I've even opened up my mother's sewing machine to figure out how to thread it, as every maker likes a slightly different path from the spool to the needle.
Amazing!

Then I went to the Jepson for moon pies and mini corndogs and popcorn, with NeHi sodas and RC Cola to wash down the repast. This was the reception for the new exhibit featuring the works of a Georgia artist, the late Reverend Howard Finster. Of course, not ALL of his works are there - the man had created almost 50,000 pieces, with about 40,000 completed in the last 16 years of his life. I've never owned any, but I do admire his cheetahs.
After the reception, I watched a rock-umentary titled "Athens, GA Inside/Out", filmed in 1987. Mr Finster was present there, also, as were musicians still with us today (R.E.M. and Love Tractor) and those that faded shortly after the filming (Time Toy and Flat Duo Jets). It was so nice to share that experience with the Portuguese (Mike Rendeiro) and other friends!
All in all, a fabulous day and evening!

So, that was last Thursday.

Today, I had gone to the Jepson to visit the art works of the Reverend Howard Finster, as the display will only be available for another two or so weeks. I went there to distract myself from disturbing events of this morning, events still hurtful and alarming, but soon to be rectified.
Instead of the newly featured works, however, I found myself captured by the Science and Technology exhibit. Seriously. Well, actually, anyone who knows me at all knows what a science nerd I am, so I guess my attraction to this display was to be expected. After all, not only did it feature light and imagery, but also the "school of fish" live painting (originated in 1986 by Reynolds and presently the work of Shiffman from 2004). And the electric fish were making paintings of ME. From wherever I stood in the room. Honestly, I think I could have played with it for hours! But if I had, I would have not seen any of Finster's religious works of art.

As it was, I only had about thirty minutes to do a brisk sweep of the hall containing the Finster exhibit. I'll have to plan on returning for a more leisurely stroll in the rooms devoted to it.
So, afterward, I spent an hour in Telfair Square, admiring the arch of the trees toward the clear blue sky. Admiring the robins and bluejays and grackles which fluttered to peck at the ground near where I sat. Soaking in the warmth in the cool shade. Talking to my first niece, sharing my day.
Then, off to the coffeehouse to look for supper. Why there? Well, in truth, I did go by another coffeehouse earlier, thinking I might join the philosophy group for tonight's discussion of happiness. But, that was not to be for me. Too many cars, not enough room for my compact. So, off to the one at the foot of Forsyth, to check out the Oklahoma songstress. Nice aubergine sandwich, too. And my lovely blue-sky cousin called! She had received the "thinking of you" package and wanted to share her happiness with me. Yea!!!
After the phone call, I left to join the Liquor Posse at one of their trivia haunts. But the joint was too crowded, as was the table, so I said my hellos and goodbyes and departed, with plans to see them on First Thursday.
Then I did a bit of grocery shopping, as I needed milk. The soymilk I have will be thrown out. Much as I like the taste, it makes me overly emotional, so it must go. So I bought my Lactaid and my almond milk and a few other odd bits, like raspberries and celery and Vidalia onions, and took my purchases up to the one register still open.
And the young woman at the register says, 'You've lost a lot of weight! You look good!'
I don't know how she could really tell, as I was wearing my loose green dress. But I responded with 'Yes, I have. I've lost fifty pounds.'
'I can tell', she says, 'I can see it in your face.'
But of course, I thought, I see it there, too. 'Thank you', I said to her.
'I sure can tell', she said again. 'I just don't recall how I know you.'
'You look familiar to me, too', I told her, checking her badge to see if I recognized her name. Nope. So I rattled off a short list of places we might have in common. Church? School? Baseball? Nope.
'Well, you keep doing what you;re doing', she told me. 'You look good.'
Thank you, thank so much!

I'm curious what my doc will say tomorrow morning at my yearly check-up.

Sunday, June 3, 2012

i must go down to the sea again



I have fingernails.

Oh, really? How very nice for you. Next!

No, you don't understand, clearly. There are white-tipped nails at the ends of my fingers. There are white-tipped nails at the ends of ALL of my fingers. This is unusual. You're talking to someone who doesn't remember having to ever clip her fingernails.

What?! Everyone clips their nails! Oh, you mean a manicurist takes care of the nails.

No. No, that is not it at all. I've had the habit of biting my fingernails ever since I was young. On rare occasions, I'd take a break for a few days, throw some polish on them, make them look nice for some special event. Then, as soon as the event was done, the nails went, too. Not that I consciously bit my nails; if I was sitting still for any length of time, the nails were between my teeth, nibble, nibble.

Well, if you could stop for a special event, then you could have stopped any time. Why didn't you try some of those nasty tasting lotions to get you to stop for good?

Oh, I did try those "end nail biting forever" remedies, but you know what? They didn't work. I was never that serious about ending the habit, I would seek out the remedy to try to please someone else and end the nagging. Biting my nails was natural for me; stopping seemed perverse.

So, what's the deal now? Why have you stopped?

I don't know.

No, there must be some reason why you have deliberately stopped the habit after all these years. How long has it been now?

That's just it: I don't truly know. I recall noticing before my vacation that I had fingernails. Ever since - hm, March? April? - I had been applying some clear nail polish that I really liked. It's very shiny and looks perpetually wet and made me feel more "girly", even though I doubt anyone else took note. I even stopped picking on my cuticles so much, because I liked the way the polish looked and didn't want to detract from that shine at the ends of my fingers. Every couple of weeks, I'd notice a dull area between the base of the nails and the cuticles and would take a few minutes to remove the old polish and apply a fresh coat. I guess I didn't pay attention to what that gap in the shine meant.
I don't recall making a conscious decision to stop my nail biting. But perhaps my subconscious had made the decision for me and it simply has taken this long for me to stop and wonder about it.
Maybe the decision is a result of a new wave rising from the depths, a blip on my inner radar which could not be ignored, an image rousing me to take notice.
This change is good. Maybe a bit scary, too, but I'm going to see where this next adventure will take me.
After all, I have white-tipped fingernails now at the end of each of my fingers so a sea change has already begun...