Hi, Anna-Liza here, with a post that is really just one long digression. But you know what? It’s my blog and I’ll digress if I want to. (Sorry if I’m poaching on your territory, Lyda.)
I’ve often noticed that there are many parts of the human body that are sexy, in addition to those so assiduously brought to our attention by Hollywood and Madison Avenue. (And they spend a lot of time and money on that, too. Like we would never, ever notice a shapely ass if they didn’t tell us we ought to. And I do truly love to see a man who knows what his hips are for. But I digress.) Actually, under the right circumstances I can find almost any part of the body sexy or at least aesthetically pleasing. Except maybe the toes. Pretty much, the best I can do with toes is “cute”. Woops, another digression.
Darlin’ K has particularly nice forearms, wrists, and hands. Slender and muscular and graceful, which pretty much describes how I like my men all over. I really love to watch him use his hands. I know, but think about it. Over the years I have seen him use them to …
… diaper our babies, put up tents, swing kids upside down, wire stereos, massage my feet, fix cars, open champagne bottles, wield a hammer or a dishcloth, play catch, build snowmen, drive Bobcats®. He’s used his hands to make music, make pancakes, and make love. He spins fire with them (gloriously).
He’s planted flowers and saplings and fence posts. He’s painted rooms and houses and pottery. Wielded a pen and a sword. Created amazing art ranging from living sculpture (installments with people as part of them) to a papier-maché dragon (with help from Mr. R on that one, of course). He’s offered the use of his hands to friends and family and to organized service groups (which is why he’s planted a lot of trees). He can use them as weapons when necessary, but uses them to heal far more often. He can caress me into sleep or fully, delightfully awake.
They’re a real man’s hands. More importantly (to me), they’re my man’s hands.