One gal's record of trying to pay much closer attention to the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

(...with a sprinkling of accounts from her outrageously blessed life with THE best husband in the world!)




16 December 2005

Manicure

I did it.

I cut my nails.

...big deal, huh? Well, it is to me.

I was in Pisa, Italy a few years back. The group I was with had arrived there that day and hadn't made any plans for a place to stay. We went from place to place, finding nothing, and finally came upon a very sympathetic desk clerk. His hotel was full, but he really wanted to help us. He would have let us sleep in the lobby if he was sure his manager wouldn't be stopping in. He spent the next 45 minutes making calls for us. The first time he picked up the phone, I noticed it. "You play guitar?" I asked. He looked up from the phone and smiled, then nodded. He knew how I knew, but my friend standing nearby didn't. So she asked. "He's got the nails," I answered.

It's a lopsidded by tell-tale way to keep your nails. Down to almost the nubbs on your chord hand and long and well manicured on your strumming hand (which for me is the left and right respectively.) Why bother with such a funny manicure though? It's the most practical for the school of guitar playing I practice: flatpicking, or fingerstyling. You pluck the individual strings instead of just strumming a chord.

So I've cut the fingernails on my left hand down to the almost the skin. This is a big deal. By doing this I'm making a commitment to actually play my guitar.

There's an amazing musician downstairs in the office where I work. Every time I see him, he asks if I've been playing. I smile sadly and tell him 'no'. Regreat always wells in my heart when I see Sunni (my guitar) leaning in the corner, not being played. There was a time when it stayed on the couch and I played it every day when I came home.

So I've cut my fingernails.

Al Petteway is definitely my musical hero. He told a story once of a time when he was performing at a Scottish music festival. Of course, he was wearing a kilt, and had the tall Aran knit socks and ankle sheath for a Sgian Dubh ('skeen doov' - gaelic for 'black knife') like traditional Scotsmen do. But in his sheath he kept a metal emory board instead of a knife. He'd use it to file his nails if they broke during concert.

So I've cut my fingernails.
Sunni's coming out of the corner.

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