So I’ve been complaining a lot lately about the impact that my daily writing habit has on my hands. Not only (being that I am now at the ripe old age of 37) am I noticing the first inklings of early arthritis, but what’s even more problematic is the cold.
Typing makes my hands cold. Really, really cold.
I imagine them crystallizing, cracking, and shattering into bright, sharp shards.
Writing longhand makes my hands cold too, but I don’t notice it as much because I can tuck my left hand between the chair and my thigh to keep it warm. I’ve also done this with my right hand, too, opting to write (slowly) with my left. I can’t recommend this. It makes the editing process an absolute nightmare.
Still, though I write my first drafts of my novels in longhand, I do all of my revisions on the computer, I compose blog posts on the computer and I compose short stories on the computer as well. The point is: I type a lot.
And so my hands are ice cold a lot. Thus my ceaseless complaints.
Enter: MY MOM.
First of all, for those of you who don’t know my mom, let me assure you: she rules. Second of all, after poking around on the internets for a while, she finally stumbled on Etsy.com and for that we can all rejoice.
Oh, Etsy! How I love you! How I love your gentle pull towards time wasting! How I love your persistent insistence for beauty! How I love your assertion that beauty has a place on all things – on the body, in the nooks and crannies of the home, in the yard, in the world. How I love your simple democratization of beautiful things – from my hands to your hands and back again.
So my mom found these.
Fingerless gloves. Soft wool. Beautiful colors. Made by a lovely lady from Lithuania, hand-wrapped with an inscription on the package, and sent to me.
To make me happy.
To turn my pain and discomfort into an occasion for beauty. An occasion to that which is pleasurable, body-affirming and good.
Thank you, Etsy! And thank you, my wonderful mom.