AAAiiieeeeeeee! THE HAND!

HandS plural, actually. I still have both. But the other was holding the camera. It's a mirror image, trust me.

Where most people have well articulated and fine boned, long fingered hands at the end of their arms, I have attached to my body soft, doughy, indistinct masses of flesh that I am sometimes able to bend into some usable form.

No concert pianist, I. I shoot with Rebels because the big grown up cameras are impossible for me to hold. I have a Blackberry because I can't SEE the iPhone keyboard underneath these loaves and can at least vaguely feel around the Curve keyboard.

My friend Paul used to call waitresses over to see them when he'd get bored at dinner. He'd say "Look! Don't his hands look like a newborn baby's?" And they'd usually say "Awwww...."and poke a fine, well manicured nail deep into the fleshy palm before slinking off to the kitchen to shudder and scrub theirhands with a brush.

These are the hands of a speech pathologist. Meaning I can go to work, put them in my pocket and not see them again until it's time to write a note or drive home.

Why do I bring this up? Shortly before I gave up photoblogging forever, I had a discussion about my hands with someone and had mentioned that I'd post a photo for them to see. I have no idea who or why because the only thing more useless than my hands is my memory. :)

Remember back when I gave up photoblogging? Those were the days, huh?