Hands

My mum and I were talking about hands the other day. She suffers from severe arthritis so her thumbs go every which way but straight and as a result she can’t abide her hands. There is no pain but to her they are unsightly. To me they are so much part of who she was and who she is – years of hard work in her business, taking care of her family, being a wife and mother that they are a badge of honour (after a fashion).

I looked at my hands tonight, gripping the steering wheel, making a salad, holding a cup – a few dings and scrapes here and there so with the aid of some fancy techo gadgetry… hand art

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“I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back.”
Maya Angelou

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Observations from my office window

Staring thoughtfully (note not idly) out the window this morning and contemplating my lot in the universe over a steaming mug of tea, a creamy appendage caught my eye. Our offices have a little balcony that overlooks one of the parking lots and after much twisting and jiggling the door gave way and I was able to view it in more detail. Normally a rather dull brown, a mundane palm seed frond had morphed into a quirky piece of art.

    

A little later in the day, the changing light gave it a slightly different look ………

    

“The secret of happiness lies in taking a genuine interest in all the details of daily life, and in elevating them to art.”
William Morris