The other day, I remembered how my aunt came to Grandpa Helmer's house there in Bergland, and she was wearing a flowered summer dress, gathered at the waist, and red fingernails. I remembered how Grandpa was really annoyed, and heard him say something about her looking like a gypsy. Funny how those things stick in your mind. I also remember (sorry dad) how my dad considered makeup and those kinds of things to be a deception that women practiced to deceive men.
Except for some kind pink of nail colour in the 80s, and never thought to wear nail polish until the manicurist cleaning up my hangnails talked me into red.
Now, I couldn't decide if I felt guilty or just liberated. Kris and I talked about it, as we're a modern kind of couple and talk every teeny tiny thing to death. Kris said something like this:
Did I think it was better to have our daughters learn from a teacher who would instruct them in old-timey skills like soap-making? Or from a woman who wore nail polish and taught them modern skills like finding a job, how much to tip and how to navigate the metropolitan transportation system?
I opined that 2 years of each might be good. Kris continued in the thought. He said that skills like breadmaking will make their lives better, and that choosing colours and design will bring beauty into their lives, but that skills like figuring interest, how to buy a car and work place abilities were absolutely necessary now-a-days.
