Mood Fingers

One of my happy places is sitting in front of Delilah while she prettifies my nails.  My “old lady” hands (veiny, age spotted, arthritic) are a lost cause, so it’s the salon equivalent of putting ornaments on a Charlie Brown Christmas Tree.  But her hands are magic, her smile is genuine, and her humor is spot-on, so I always come out of her doors feeling new-and-improved.

Over the years, we have chosen polish for specific events/seasons.  We picked Glitter Blue for my trip to Washington DC, shortly after the 2016 election.  I wanted the new president to be able to see one of my fingers as I waggled it in his direction.  We picked Soft Peach for my month-long stay in Chelsea, Manhattan.  A month was a long time, and I knew I didn’t want anyone else doing my nails, so the peach would blend as my nails grew out.  This was particularly important since I was going to be “meeting” Bette Midler  again (a story for another time), and I didn’t want her to shake my hand and come away remembering “The Overly Excited Girl With Bad Nails”.  Dark Eggplant was chosen for a recent Alice Cooper concert, and so on.

But shortly before Easter, Delilah had a surprise for me…MOOD POLISH!  She knew I would be searching for a pale pink (to replace the St Paddy’s Day green), so she had set aside a magic potion which, when first applied, was lavender…but after it dried and warmed to the temperature of my hands, turned the sweetest shade of pink!  I was in heaven!  Where was this stuff when I was 14?  I ran to the sink and stuck one hand under cold water and, sure enough, back to lavender my nails went!  I spent the rest of the afternoon annoying my employees, friends, daughters, and a handful of startled strangers in the frozen food section of Krogers.  I informed my husband that he would now be able to tell if I was dead without shoving that annoying mirror under my nose.  This actually backfired when we realized that my lack of circulation caused my nails to turn purple every morning anyway, so there’s really no telling.  I will just have to settle for zombie status.

I decided not to go into the office today.  I scheduled a pedicure, a hair appointment, a brow waxing, and, of course, my nails.  “Sparkly Sand” will be chosen, in anticipation of warmer weather.  But the real reason I took off today was to write my first blog.  Or write my first post ON my blog?  Or post on my first blog?  Or, just blog?   You see, this is the problem.

I hadn’t yet figured out Myspace when an old high school friend introduced me to Facebook.  That was a decade ago, and I wasn’t yet an old dog.  But now the new tricks…the Tweets and Posts and Snaps and Shares and Regranns… the Vines and YouTubes… have become intertwined with the spaghetti of passwords, pin numbers, phone settings and grandchildren’s birthdates.  My monkey brain has chosen to only think clearly during showers and between the hours of 2 and 4 am.  Since I haven’t found (or most certainly could never afford) a waterproof laptop, and I actually slept between 2 and 4 am this morning, I now find myself sitting in front of my shiny new laptop, and realizing I am having an opening day similar to the Texas Rangers (sorry guys, but that first series sucked).

I have never liked the term “writer’s block”.  It sounds like a cube version of “ball-and-chain” (WAY too permanent).  The term itself is enough to give me, well, blockage.  As I try to come up with a more creative and desirable term for my mush-brain, I stare down at my fingers, willing them to connect to the fabulous ideas that pulsed through me  at a less convenient time, and notice that only half of my nails are pink.  That’s IT!  I am comforted by the realization that my hands have not warmed up yet.  The great stuff will have to wait.  My fingers are, literally, not in the mood.