Proof I was not adopted.

This is me, setting up the camera to take a picture of myself. I am obviously thrilled that it is 7:50am on Wednesday morning as implied from the frown and the droopy eyelids. This has nothing to do with the post, but I thought it was hilarious how extremely unhappy I look.

Actually, it is a good day and I am very happy.


This was the picture I was trying to take. Please direct your attention to the pinky fingers. They are crooked. Here's a closer look.


The right is more crooked than the left; but the left does this zig-zag thing that you can't really see in the picture. It's always been that way.

If I ever had doubts of whether I was related to my father, which I haven't, this proves my paternity. My dad has these same exact pinkies. My Gram also has these same exact pinkies. My brother's don't have them, though. It's just the three of us. I have always thought some special power must come from pinky fingers that look like this...like super pinky strenth. I just haven't learned how to hone in on the power yet. I am pretty sure I will use the powers for good instead of evil, though.

It's neat to see these weird special physical traits that get passed down from our family. I can't imagine hands without crooked pinkies, and that will probably be one of the first things I check on our future children when they are born. Which one will get my pinkies?

What physical trait did you have passed down to you? Are you glad you have it?

After further review of these hands, I am very convinced I could never be a hand model. Besides the crooked pinkies, what is up with my thumb joints? Eeek.