Well Manicured Writing


Well manicured hand and pen
©Anyka, iStockphoto® #8072944

What is it about a torn fingernail that demands to be torn, bitten, or sanded smooth? Why can’t a loose tooth or burned palate be ignored?


We seem to have an instinct to worry imperfections to death. Sometimes I awaken fussing with the previous day’s tricky punctuation or second-guessing an awkward phrase. I sleep-edit. Or I’m driving when the plot lines intersect, listening to something unrelated when my answer calls to me, showering as the logical solution precipitates.

If you’re worked something and struggled over it, and now you’re stuck, it’s time to make like Bo Peep and her sheep: “Leave them alone and they’ll come home.”

Do some Brain Gym®–of course. Prayer, always. Then let go. Just try to leave that ragged nail alone. If the problem needs solving, and you’re the one for the job, it won’t leave you alone.


Text © Gwyn Nichols 2011, All Rights Reserved.

Photo © Anyka, iStockphoto® #8072944.


Need a Nap?

I’m on spring break! Before I tackled various maternal, domestic, and academic projects, cleaned my upholstery, and attended a workshop on how to pay for another graduate degree, I napped!

Yawning Newborn
Photo copyrighted, Vivid pixels istockPhoto #00000382919

Imagine that. Theoretically, I already know about sleep’s importance to my health, learning, and inspiration, but do I schedule enough of it?

The National Sleep Foundation classifies naps as planned, emergency, or habitual. This one qualified as emergency. I didn’t feel qualified to drive. And I could feel a cold coming on if I didn’t supercharge my immune system.

My main resolution–to breathe–has branched out to include meditation and yoga, and now, sleep. I shared Arianna Huffington’s hilarious speech on the subject in an earlier post, but I was teaching two night classes at the time and I didn’t schedule those naps. Here’s my chance to commit to that self-care. I’m sure I’ll be all the smarter for it. Maybe I’ll even remember to check my pockets before I wash another phone.


Text © Gwyn Nichols 2011