Dishwasher hands

I first heard this phrase from a poem of Jennifer Weber, back when she wasn’t even a mother. Now she has two gorgeous daughters who are now artists. 
Do artists have dishwater hands? Only if they are watercolorists. 
I didn’t look at Jenny’s hands the last time we saw each other two years ago at Baguio Brewery. Dishwater hands are temporary even if the small brews were cold and Baguio was nippy that night. 
Now I recall that poem was about daughter defiance. Maybe Jenny uses an automatic dishwasher.
I, on the other hand, loves to wash dishes the old way. Using a sink, sponge and dishwashing paste. 
Recently, I got a scare about the billions of bacteria sponges were supposed to harbor and bought the brush with fill-in dishwashing liquid but it wasn’t the same.
I didn’t get dishwasher fingers because I don’t allow the dishes to get so high anyway. Dishwasher hands are when they become wrinkly or, as the Americans call it, pruny. 
There was another recent science news that wrinkled fingers are an evolutionary advantage because they perform like “tire treads” which allow for heightened grip in wet environments. 
Well, good for our ancestors who need to grasp mudfish so they can eat or our future children in Waterworld but this is not what I want to talk about. 
It’s why I like to wash dishes. Sometimes when I’m rushing things especially writing, I absentmindedly find myself in front of the sink and preparing to clean the dishes. Then I immerse myself in it and my stalled ideas return to me. 
There is something about the mess you are confronted with and then cleaning them and organizing them into spoons, bowls, plates, and utensils. Then the white sink wiped clean. 
Then I can easily go back to what I was writing and often they clear themselves to me. 
My friend Wilfredo Pascual wrote this in his poetics: “Nothing beats washing dishes in the sink, to me one of the most comforting household chores, very contemplative, a lot of unclogging, outpouring and cleansing taking place, an extremely beneficial time to scrub my memories through running water and soak my stories. It composes me. It also develops the mind’s fluidity and grip. You can’t let one soapy chinaware slip from your hand and shatter everything.”
I tried to recall when we did tandem dishwashing. Never did. In parties, we shy away from the kitchen. I recalled just one such scene in his Bangkok loft: 
Me: Ako na maghugas
Willi: No, hindi pa tapos. We still have wine. 

Sometimes he washed dishes ala Rita Gomez in New York, with left hand holding a cigarette. 
But that’s it. Contemplative washing. Wash the grime and be served anew. 
I scanned my favorite reference book, “Daily Rituals: How Artists Work” by Mason Currey and not one of the more than 100 artists there included dishwashing in their routine.  The included artists were mostly dead so automatic dishwasher was not part of the common appliances then. 
But it worked for us and I again have science to back me up. Time Magazine wrote about a Florida State University study of 51 students who were asked to wash dishes. 
“The researchers found that people who washed dishes mindfully (they focused on smelling the soap, feeling the water temperature and touching the dishes) upped their feelings of inspiration by 25% and lowered their nervousness levels by 27%. The group that didn’t wash the dishes mindfully did not gain any benefits from the task. “It appears that an everyday activity approached with intentionality and awareness may enhance the state of mindfulness,” the study authors conclude.”
It’s all about mindful dishwashing then. Otherwise, you end up with broken ideas and broken dishes, anyway. You mind your dishes and inspiration, courage and, hopefully, words will come.