We headed down to -e-’s house for the Oscars. We still haven’t plugged our television in after coming back from Iceland and she was offering homemade chicken soup for Rob’s cold (which is much better) so it seemed a pretty clear choice. There was much hashing of costumes, I mean wardrobe, and a general consensus that Pilobolus dance rocks. We also liked the living tableaus of the costume designers work. That’s so much better than previous options.

I mentioned the wire and bark basketry I was doing for the monkeys heads, and that I was expecting my fingers to be sore. I was not expecting to form calluses so quickly. My fingers feel as if I’m wearing a thin pair of gloves on the tips. To other’s touch, they feel as if I polished them with a pumice stone and removed my fingerprints. When I push on the tips, the skin moves slowly and stiffly, as if a layer of glue coats it.

I notice it most when I’m trying to handle something small, like say, putting my contacts in. It is more than passing strange and very disconcerting.