Mom went for a very rare manicure last week, and when she came home I decided I wanted to paint my nails, too. We didn't have much to choose from, so I picked white (used for the 'tips' on fancy french manicures). I wasn't altogether impressed with the meagre selection of nail-polish in our house, so we went out the next day and got me some sparkly polish for kids that I picked myself.
Being a young woman of style and substance, my fancy nails did not stop me from helping move the mountain of soil that arrived the day AFTER mom and I had our nails done.
Benevolent Garden Martyrs with dirty, chipped nails. That's what we are.
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