Five minute Friday: hands

It's funny, I've been thinking about my hands recently. And by recently I mean over the past several months or so. I never really thought about my hands once before. I mean, as a kid, my mom told me that I had long fingers like my dad and that I would be great at playing piano. I did take lessons for a little while, but if you've ever taken piano lessons, you know how downright tedious they are in the beginning. I didn't last long. And, again, from my parents, my fingers were so long - I was destined to be tall. As a kid who for whatever reason delighted in dreams of one day becoming a model (along with a writer, and a veterinarian, and I forget what all else), this was great news. How tall? I would ask. Oh, 5'7, 5'8 probably.

Forever stunted at 5'3 1/2, I've forgiven them long ago. But still, lately, I've been looking at my hands. I've noticed little tiny freckles (yes, I will call them that) that weren't there before. In fact, as I look at them, they don't look as youthful as I remember. Why? This doesn't seem fair. I guess I forget about them when applying sunscreen. So, over the past several months, I've become more diligent about sunscreen on my hands and arms even when I'm just doing everyday things like driving the car on a sunny day.

This bothers me, a little bit anyway, although no one else seems to notice or mind. My daughter loves holding my hands, and being hugged, and my son is very accustomed to my ruffling his hair, patting him affectionately on the chest, or grabbing his face to plant a kiss on his cheek whether he likes it or not. So if they've noticed my new set of hand freckles, they haven't said so. I'm thinking it probably doesn't matter.

Five minute Friday: one Friday ago

Word: nothing.

Fittingly, I could think of nothing I really wanted to write about with this word, which is why it's taken me an entire week to post something. More specifically, I wasn't inspired by anything. I had some ideas here and there, but nothing really grabbed me and therefore I just let it go. Nothing was the result.

This is my problem overall. If I can't find inspiration, I'll have nothing to write about. Maybe it's that way with everyone, but at SOME point, that inspiration will come along - from a person, from a book, from a particular experience in your life. As far as writing that elusive book of mine, I've simply been uninspired. I do have one idea that keeps coming back to me, which makes me think it's worth pursuing, but at the same time it's a bit overwhelming, the idea of writing a novel. So that keeps me doing nothing, creatively speaking.

My days are full of a variety of things; it's not like I sit around doing nothing all the time. I take care of the house, shopping, school-related activities and obligations. Cooking, sometimes, if I feel like it. :) Once 3 o'clock hits things generally amp up in the business department. But in terms of writing, it seems like it's been a lot of nothing. I'm wondering when that will change.