I wish I knew a really good manicurist. Not a nail tech, an old-fashioned manicurist. 

I could really use a manicure. Yeah, I can push back my cuticles and file my nails, but what I really need is a good hand massage. My fingers are sore. I feel like Claw Woman. I can barely straighten my right hand out at all.

Part of this comes from fighting with clients who refuse to relax their hands for me. They watch what I'm doing and try to help me by turning their hands the way they think I want them, or they hold their fingers straight out — always pointing them up to the ceiling where they can see them, but I can't. Part of it is just age and heredity and I'm sure arthritis would get officially diagnosed if I were willing to see a doctor and have it checked.

For the most part, a day off and some Ibuprofen take care of it for the time being, so life just goes on as usual.

This weekend though, my hands hurt. And what I really want is a long, deep hand massage. The kind they don't teach you to give when you're in beauty school.

I've never had very strong hands, and my hands are very small. Too small to pursue a career as a concert pianist — which is the excuse I use for never having learned to play much more than “My Darling Clementine” on the piano. So I've never been confident in my ability to offer a quality massage myself. Nevertheless, I've never had a client who didn't love getting a little hand massage.

Maybe I'll work on that. I think I'm going to focus on adding massage to more of my services.

In the meantime I guess I'll get out the Ibuprofen and the Ben Gay.