Chapped hands

My mom recently mentioned to me that my tiny hands have gotten quite rough and course.  Looking down at my red, cracking knuckles, it's true that they aren't as pretty as they once were.  My nail polish is chipped in two places, despite having only done them yesterday.  The nails themselves are short and stubby, to prevent dirt and grime from becoming embedded and festering.  But between washing dishes for my parents' at their house (poor momma's still sick) and scrubbing down tack every single night, there's bound to be some coarseness.  The wind chill and below freezing temperatures haven't helped and when I dip my hands into that ice cold bucket, there are more of my fingers I can't feel.  But much as it is and has been for the past year, I wouldn't have it any other way - being close to family and doing the things that I love.

These past few weeks I've been trodden upon, frozen, and reduced to patting a freaked out Ryon's neck because there are signs blowing in the wind.  In the same place.  Every night.  But patience is the key and he's really come a long way in the almost two weeks that I've had him.  The big bugger's a smart one and a cheeky fellow to boot.  Oh, the adventures we will have...