Hands Down

This post contained several deep and reflective statements on coming of age and gratitude, and so of course the comments section immediately degenerated into a discussion of hand modeling.

These hands are not, as mistakenly claimed, those of Josh the Pilot.


As we can see when we pull the camera back, this gin is in the loving hand-embrace of Country The Brother-In-Law.

In the four years I've been running BlondeChampagne, my family has never left a comment, largely and understandably because they do not want admit I belong to them. Yesterday? Country surges from the shadows to claim his own hands.

For Country The Brother-In-Law is mighty in spirit and deed, and far be it from this website to detract from what is rightfully his, not that this is typically a problem, as he is something like nine feet tall. Although now, of course, I must come to terms with the fact that I have married a man who has had the same hands for twenty-six years, and, as an identical twin, had a matched set to stare at for that long plus nine months, and still did not recognize them.

Life is so peculiar, but is everybody's pair at: mbe@drinktothelasses.com