Messy Hands: Wordless Wednesday

This is how my hands look at the end of nearly every day. I don’t mean to do it. It just kind of happens.

Thank goodness it's acrylic.
Thank goodness it’s acrylic.

When’s the last time you did something where your hands got dirty?

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12 thoughts on “Messy Hands: Wordless Wednesday

  1. Now just repaint/redo your nails (toes included!) and you will be even MORE spectacular Mrs. Van Gogh! 😉

    “…something where [my] hands got dirty?” The G-rated version, or the ___-rated version? Mmm.

      1. Seriously (if that’s how you’re asking?), I think 24/7 piety and purity are highly overrated (not saying that’s you either). And I am not knocking in any fashion the altruism of peace, good will, and gratitude, but “in general” balances it with various forms of good fun — a healthy mischief if you will. Both can be had and well managed. That’s my Mr. Serious answer. 😉 lol

  2. The last time my hands were REALLY dirty was last Thursday. Even though the garage floor stays clean, I can’t seem to complete an oil change without making a mess of my hands. I certainly don’t get the same colorful effect as you’ve achieved either.

    1. Hi Brian! You are the most resourceful person I know. What can’t you do?! You notice grammar problems in a single glance, you sing, and you change the oil in your car. You never cease to amaze me. I’m guessing you couldn’t have touch a camera with those hands. 🙂

  3. In the kitchen, making homemade meatballs for my two friends undergoing breast cancer surgery in the same week. Wow. Talk about a wake-up call. But the messiness was therapeutic!

    1. Hi Kay: Now that’s my kind of dirty. Yummy dirty. I take it you cook when you are having a rough time. i get it. I paint or doodle or write. Cooking can be wonderful, too. I hope your friends are okay. I really do. It’s the time of year for miracles, big and small.

  4. Anytime I cook. Every time I cook? It’s not just hands, but face, hair, clothing, floor, and a couple of times, the ceiling. But it’s all good. It’s just not fun to clean up.

    There was a girl I remember in college who didn’t say much. We had an English class together, but she was an art major. On days she came in with paint on her hands, she seemed happier.

    On days she came in with paint on her hands, in her hair and on her jeans? Euphoric.

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