Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Dirty Hands


I grew up on a farm. I now live on a farm with my husband.

And I cannot stand to have dirty hands.

I just don't like how it feels. My husband makes fun of me, but I try not to let him bother me.

I think the root of this problem is that I hate the feeling of dirt under my fingernails, and have therefore projected that dislike to the other parts of my hands. I'm not too sure. I just know I will freak out if I do not get to a sink within minutes of acquiring said dirt. Oddly enough, I am not nearly this much of a neat freak when it comes to other parts of my life. Hmm…

The biggest hurdle for a clean-hands person such as myself in this household would have to be our garden.


My husband lovingly tills, plants, and weeds this beautiful piece of land until it resembles something out of Better Homes & Gardens. My job is to pick the vegetables. Most of the time I do not mind. I love taking care of the watermelon (quite possibly the best food on earth) and the cantaloupe vines. I hate picking beans and peas because it causes my back to ache for days. Picking our squash, zucchini, and cucumbers fall somewhere in the middle of those two extremes.

So how does a clean-hand-a-phobe tackle the garden?

With the help of these babies:






I love these garden gloves.

They're cute (or they were, anyway) and they keep that irritating dirt off my hands. I got these last year at Wal-Mart, and don't quite know what I would do without them. Well, I suppose I would buy another pair, but there would always be a special place in my heart for my pink garden gloves.

The new pair would definitely have to coordinate with my boots.


Did I not mention I hate dirty feet?








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