Saturday, June 20, 2015


"Hanging on by...." and all that.

I used to bite my fingernails down to the quick and beyond. I'm not sure when or why I stopped--but I stopped at some point, which is all that matters.

This week, when I was at Holy Cross Monastery, I noticed how long they were. When I got home and tried to type--they were troublesome. So, tonight I cut them.

I couldn't find my clippers and couldn't manage Bern's (which I think are left handed, though Bern, right-handed as she is can manage them), but I can't.

So, I cut my fingernails with a huge set of toe nail clippers I have. It wasn't precise, by any means, but I pared them down and can type much better.

Finger and toe nails, I'm told, continue to grow after you die.

Which is one reason I'm glad I'll be cremated, among others.

Being in a coffin with no way to either bite or cut nails...well, that would bother me for eternity.

(I can no longer remember 'why' I bit my fingernails. But I'm glad I stopped, for whatever reason.)

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About Me

some ponderings by an aging white man who is an Episcopal priest in Connecticut. Now retired but still working and still wondering what it all means...all of it.