I went ahead and did it.
I figured, what the hell. Why not.
I went ahead and did it.
I figured, what the hell. Why not.
Today I should be totally excited, but I feel like I could barf a little bit.
I’m going this afternoon to get my Mother’s Day gift from Bill. Two new tattoos.
Any gift giving occasion, I pretty much always want tattoos. This is nothing new. But where I’m putting these tattoos is new. And for some reason, I’m kinda nervous about it.
A while back, I saw a picture of a girl wearing some really snappy looking black shoes…I was shopping for shoes for Xmas for myself. Sometimes I want something different from tattoos. Not often, mind you.
But anyway…she had on these cool shoes and right above her feet but below her rolled up pants, she had 2 black and grey tattoos on her legs, like on the fronts of her ankles. Nothing big. But pretty damn cool. And I’ve been a little obsessed ever since.
So now I have an appointment today at 4:00. After I get these babies done, Bill is taking me out to one of our favorite diners near the shop. That’s like one of my favorite life combos…tattoos followed by burgers, beers and tater tots.
Why am I so nervous. I actually have heartburn over it.
You know what? I guess I always get a little scared before. Not because of the pain or whatever. I don’t care about that. I guess part of me wonders, or worries, what people might think.
Stupid, right? I mean, I already have lots of tattoos. I love them all. I have zero regrets. Sometimes I wonder if people look at me and say–um, how old is she? What is she trying to prove? You know some people are like that. People who have nothing better to do but to judge others.
Then I get mad at myself because who gives a shit what other people think. That’s not how I roll. I mean, I used to, back in the old days when stuff like that mattered to me. Even then having to think about that pissed me off. To be honest, nowadays the only people I really worry about the opinions of are my husband and two kids. And they love me. They think I look good. I think.
Isn’t not caring what other people think of you anymore one of the perks of getting older? I think it’s supposed to be.
I just need to calm the fuck down and switch gears. Start being excited about it. They’re just a couple of little flowers on my legs, no big deal. Think how cute they’ll look with some bitchin’ shoes like that girl had on. And ooh, how about some painted toenails running barefoot?!
One time, a couple years ago, I went to see a therapist. Back when I was going through some shit. She was really nice. We talked for an hour and then I never went back because neither of us thought I really needed a therapist. I told her one of my biggest problems is being scared to put myself out there. You know, as in writing and just basically saying what I really want to say.
She told me–You look like someone who’s not afraid of anything.
That remains one of my favorite things that anyone has ever said to me.
So what’s two more tattoos? I’ll tell you what they are.
They’re me. They’re totally me.
I’m going to shut up now and go get cleaned up. I gotta do a number on my feet so they are extra inoffensive today. Can you imagine being a tattoo artist? I bet they see and smell some gnarly body parts sometimes. Gross.
Well, they ain’t going to be getting any of that from me.
Wish me luck. If anyone is reading this…hello, anyone?…I’ll post pics later.
So get ready.
Hi there. And welcome.
You’ve gone and stumbled upon what I like to call “my new blog”.
I used to have a blog I loved writing not too long ago. I had to give it up, though, because we got a new puppy last February, and let me tell you–my life turned upside down when we brought her home. After having our old dog (she passed away) for so long, who was a complete gem and totally easy to care for, having a puppy in the house again was rather overwhelming. I was frustrated a lot by all of my free time things I liked to do–blogging being one of them–having to go by the wayside in exchange for puppyhood antics and basic training.
But give my hobbies up I did. I’m happy to report that puppy has turned 1 and life in our home has settled considerably and things have kinda gone back to normal.
So now I’m back and ready to write stuff I have no idea anybody besides me will care too much about.
But let’s give it another whirl, shall we?
Here’s a fun twist. Along with my new calmer life and fresh start to my blogging career, I am adding the fun-filled event of turning 50 years old to my line up of things to do this year.
You heard me right–50.
I am a Summer of Love baby (hence the blog name). I dig that about myself. But now here I am, getting ready to click over to an age that kinda freaks me out. I’ve never been freaked out by aging before now. In fact, I love my birthday. I love all birthdays. After we meet, I will remember your birthday way before I remember your name. I like to make big whoop-dee-doos over birthdays.
This one I find myself dreaded months way ahead.
Friends and family I’ve discussed this with blow off my apprehension and tell me–Oh, you’re young!! Well, okay…I know I’m not like 90 or anything, but I still feel like 50 is a number to be reckoned with. You can’t really claim being “young” anymore after you’ve hit the big 5-0. And, truth be told, my body is starting to pull shit on me. Painful heel, knee twinges, backaches. That kind of stuff.
Let me tell you a story real quick:
This past Saturday I went shopping and as I made my way into Macy’s, my shoelaces weren’t tied very tight and my (painful) heels were slipping around in my shoes. I found myself thinking–I hope when I get in this place there’s somewhere I can sit so I can retie my shoes.
I’ve never had to consider pre-planned sitting before. I mean, not for myself at least. And don’t you know, there was nowhere to sit inside the store doors. So I thought-screw it…I’m going to bend down and tie these shoes. I can do it!
There was an older lady standing there putting on her coat and gloves and scarf. I thought, okay–if I get stuck on the floor she can help me. So I crouched and started untying and retying. It took some effort on my part, but I did it. Then I was off and shopping and it all worked out okay.
But what the hell was that?!
I’ll tell you what that was.
That was me…hot on the heels of 50.
So yeh. These are the kinds of stories I plan on telling here.
Admit it.. you’re hooked, aren’t you.
If you’re not totally convinced yet, here’s a little more insight about me and the kind of stuff you might find me discussing here…
I made my career out of being a stay-at-home mom with our 2 kids. We homeschooled with the exception of the one year our son attended kindergarten. After that, we took off on our own. Those were some great-ass years. I was a really good mom. I still am, I guess, but the kids are grown now. They only need me here and there, and that’s good–the way it should be, you know? Hubby of 100 years and I are now empty-nesters. We own a small business we started on a shoestring. My husband runs that operation with some help from me. It’s just the two of us and has been for the past 14 years. We’ve lived in our house, which is tiny and adorable and really fun to redecorate and keep uncommonly immaculate now that there are no children around, for the past 24 years. We have pets I will more than likely mention way more than most people might enjoy. But what can I say, we think those furballs are the shit. My husband is a guitar player. I like to think someday I’ll write something good enough to make it on to a bookstore shelf. I’m covered in tattoos, love clothes and music and books and am hellbent on feeling as young as I can for as long as I can.
Which brings us back to that whole turning 50 thing. Remember?
I definitely remember.
All right. If you’ve read this whole thing I’d like to say thank you. Come back again if you want. Say hi.
I’m going to go fill up my coffee cup again and take a cruise around to see if I can find some interesting other blogs to read.
It feels good to be back. 🙂
Til next time, please enjoy this rockin’ tune–the Doors’ mega-hit that was #1 song on the charts the day I was born.
Pretty appropriate for a Summer of Love baby, don’t you think?