Bonded

I never imagined I would be one to get a tattoo. Me – a straight-laced Lutheran-raised country girl from the Midwest – growing up in the mountains… just doesn’t seem to fit. Then as my children grew and I was introduced to the actual artistry and meaning of tattoos, I began to open my mind and give the whole genre a new look. It didn’t have to be all flaming dragons and hoochy-koochy girls. Tattoos could be a beautiful, simple, artistic image of you. And, as I decided, a way to celebrate life…

At age 52, I have two tattoos. And I have decided that my reason for having any tattoo is to commemorate a joyous occasion – a time I want to cherish and relish and look back upon with a smile. I will not add any ink to my body frivolously. Because nothing says forever like a tattoo. It will always be there.

My first tattoo rests on my right ankle and is the Chinese symbol for Happiness. At least I pray to God it is. My dear friend who is of Chinese descent told me, “O I’m sure it means happiness in some dialect; there are so many…” He is so sweet. What do I know; I grew up in Iowa. But it means happiness to me. And the impetus for that tattoo was to celebrate the fact that I was about to turn 50 years old. 50 years on the planet deserves a statement!

I knew nothing of tattoos, but I had wonderful guides. Both my sons’ girlfriends – who are so beautiful – knew the way thru the tattoo world and were planning to add each a new one. They invited me along and we all “bonded” while getting our tattoos (all different but inked at the same time) together.

So that was the coming of age for me at 50.

Flash forward to yesterday, June 26, 2007. My son is marrying the most amazing woman – someone I love and respect and LIKE. Having had history together in their 7 year relationship, we decided it was only proper to celebrate that with permanent ink. We drove to the seedy/yet up and coming part of town and after having two beers each at the dive bar across the street (I loved it), we sauntered in to the tattoo parlour and were branded with the image that you see here. Mine is on my wrist; her’s on her foot.

And I still have a spare wrist available… you know who I’m talkin’ to ;-)

And btw – I wore my hat the whole time I wrote this. I do believe it is my new thinking hat.

I really love this hat. And I love my new tattoo.

Life is good.