Fingernails

I just filed and painted my nails. When I was in Paris a few weeks ago with Sam and Claire I bought a thing of almost-clear pink nail polish on a whim, and it's been a great investment. I feel so much better when my nails are all long and neat and painted. I paint them because they break way less if I do, so it's nice that the nail polish is almost clear.

One of my clearest memories of my Grandma (Dad's mom) is of the way she used to tap her fingernails on the table. She had lovely long fingernails, and she would tap them starting from the pinky, tap-ta-ta-tap. I loved her hands, the way they were all soft and gentle and wrinkly, and I loved the sound her fingernails made. I'd try to copy her, but I could never make the same noise.

I always thought it was just because it took some special trick, and that I would maybe learn how to do it when I was older, but I never could. Eventually, my first year in college, I stopped biting my fingernails. They grew long enough that all four of them grew past my fingertips, and one day I was sitting at my desk when I discovered that I could finally tap my fingers the way Grandma used to. Ever since then I've kept them as long as I can.

It drives my friends nuts, the way I'm always tapping my fingernails on something.