hands

My nephew Aaron's hands. Taken a couple of years ago at my sis-in-law's wedding rehearsal. Weddings always have a lot of waiting around, and Aaron was chatting with me from the the pew ahead of me (in this case a series of interlocking chairs). His hands were between the small gap the chairs, and I took this picture.

"There he goes again. Crazy Uncle Mike taking weird pictures of eyeballs and hands and bees again. " Or so he probably thought.

Crazy Uncle Mike. No joke. That's my name with my nephews and neice. Can you believe it?!?! I would understand it if they called me "Disarmingly Charming Uncle Mike." Now that would make sense. Or...."Profound and Witty Uncle Mike." That, too, is a natural. Or, "Our basketball hero Uncle Mike." Natch. Or why not Rabbi Michael?

But Crazy Uncle Mike....I tell you, it hurts.

Real bad.

But maybe if "you" were to call me Rabbi Mike, well, that could ease the pain a little. Because I have loads of wisdom to offer. Really really. And if you don't believe me, just ask me. (Brises, however, are out of the question. Fainting and circumcision are rarely a good combination.)