Painting the Toeses Red

It’s 5 PM on a Sunday and I’ve just woken from a nap. The day lays like discarded wrappers all around me. Coloring books on the rug, a pair of pink socks, a newly started puzzle, scriptures and church books from our home-church lesson earlier today. A table is covered with craft materials, and the floor is badly in need of sweeping.  And propped up before the scene are my bright red toenails. 

For the first time in my life, I painted my nails red.  Well, just the toes.  It's not my style.  Even though red is his favorite color, Guy wouldn't care for it. He prefers a natural look and has never liked bright red lipstick or nails, but he'd likely just say, “Do what you want. They’re not my toes.” Against my pale skin it looks like giant drops of blood on white linoleum.  But I needed a change.

I almost never paint my nails. It’s a luxury, really.  They always take too long to dry, and I have places to go and too many things to do. 

Or did. 

There's not much call for shoes these days in a world of chaos and worry. These days it's luxury I can afford.  Time that used to be spent driving and shopping, teaching other people's children, transporting my own kiddos to classes, and doing my church job is... free.  I love that word - free.  Liberated.  Through all of this seriousness, there are certainly a few silver linings.  

Some of that silver is that I have more time to write.  But besides time, there's been a wrench in my blogworks.  Even in my closer circles, cynicism and agitated commentary are easily "shared" online, making me timid about putting my heart and life out there lately.  

But I am now the woman who paints her toenails red, with time on my hands (and toes, apparently).  The keyboard awaits.

It's time to be red toenail-brave again.