Between working in the yard/garden and doing some spring cleaning jobs inside, my hands have taken a wicked beating. Time for a manicure. I have to do my own manicures. When I was working and had more discretionary money, I would gladly pay for the indulgence of a pedicure, but even then I did my own manicure. Let's face it, the average manicurist takes one look at my nails and thinks, "Why bother?" In truth, lots of people who seem to care about nails much more than I give me confused, dismayed, slightly dyspepsic looks upon noticing my nails.
My nails are short, okay? To me a good manicure is scrubbed clean nails, pushed back cuticles, clipped back, filed smooth nails that do not ever extend past the finger tips, and a good slather of rich hand cream. For special occasions, maybe a good buffing. Polish, French manicures, air brushing--not for me.
Several years age, Mike and I went on a raft trip in the Grand Canyon. This involved six days of rafting down the Colorado River, often through several freezing-cold rapids a day, and camping out under the stars for five nights. There was both physical challenge and the need for packing light. I clipped my nails especially short and never even thought about packing any kind of manicure supplies. This meant I was pretty well cut out of the circle of the rest of the women on the trip who had prepared by getting full on salon manis and spent the first half hour or so of every night's encampment repairing chipped polish and ragged nails. Real bathing and shampooing were out for the duration, but some people worried about perfect nails. I still don't get it.