Hand Stands

I wish you could see my hands.

I. Got. A. Manicure.
I don't even LIKE manicures. But I'm thrilled with this one. You see, I got out of town for 48 hours, not for work, by myself, to see dear friends. I have known my friend C and E since fifth grade, when they accepted me in spite of my crazy family, and invited me to their houses to play so I could experience some good normal fun away from the drama. One whole crazy family later, they still do that, and they make me get manicures, even though I never get manicures. I loved it.

Honestly, I can't stop looking at my hands. All day today, I found myself doing it -- Peaches even caught me and asked, "Why you do that?" She's bright, but I could not explain to a two year old why my nails make me so happy. If I could, I'd tell her that looking at my nails makes me happy because:

- when a girlfried treats you to a manicure, she's saying, "I want you to feel special. Let's hang out and take good care of ourselves because we ARE special."
- when you have dear friends you've known for 27 years, you can't really dwell in the land of the pity party 24/7.
- when you get a manicure, you get to sit still and be pampered.
- i didn't think about autism every waking moment, though my friends tolerated way more autism talk than anyone should have to on a weekend.
- I, if you can believe this, relaxed.
- my friends are beautiful people, and I love them.

If this were Facebook, I'd be sending you all virtual manicures. French tips, in fact.