I know, I know. It’s been a while since my last blog. I’ve been busy working on getting the second book in the “Bus Stop Series” published. If you enjoyed My Name is Edward, I think you’re going to really enjoy the next in the series—They Call Him Skinny. Fingers crossed it will be available on Amazon and other outlets in early October. And the third book in the series is already in the making.
So, enough on that. Let’s talk tats. As in tattoos. Ink. Body Art. The older I get, the more I realize that embracing our passions is imperative. Time is like eating potato chips while watching TV. Before you know it, the whole bag is gone. Too often bucket lists get stashed in the corners of the garage or shelved in the attic as we slug through life taking care of business. Some recent curveballs and the death of a friend and mentor made me realize that time isn’t promised. I decided to wipe the dust off the old bucket list and re-examine things. And one of the items on the list was getting a tattoo. I might not look like the type to carve pictures into my skin–not that I know exactly what that type is, but for me getting a tattoo was about bringing something that I’m passionate about–or maybe I should say someone I’m passionate about–closer to home. And what’s closer to home than our skin?
Initially, I thought about vines winding around my foot, words scrolled across my ankle, flowers hugging the back of my ear. But none of it moved me. It wasn’t embracing any passion that I had and felt more like getting a tat for the sake of saying I did. I should also mention that at the very same time that I was contemplating the idea of getting a tattoo, I discovered that my husband was doing the same. Surprisingly, even after spending his entire career in the motorcycle business, he never quite settled on a tattoo that he felt would be meaningful.
One conversation with him led to another, and then the idea crawled off of our bucket lists and straight into reality. We decided there was no better time to go get tattoos than on his birthday—together.
As the day approached for our joint appointment, while he was set on what he wanted to do, I still hadn’t decided. I began to think I might not want to get inked at all. But the morning of, clarity slapped me in the face. It hit me that this wasn’t really about a tattoo at all. It was about embracing my passion, and without wanting to make anyone gag, my greatest passion is my family. And my husband, Kirk, is top on the list.
Before we headed south to Ink Era Tattoos–and yes I did my research on good places to go–I had Kirk sign Love Kirk on a piece of paper, just like he had hundreds of times on the cards he’d given to me in our seventeen years together. Seeing his writing suddenly made everything right.
And it is. It’s beautifully right.
When I’m driving with hands wet on the wheel…sorry, maybe the ink has gotten to me. Radar Love just seemed to take over my body. Anyway, what I was going to say is that, when I am driving and I see the tattoo on my arm in Kirk’s familiar writing, I’m suddenly comforted. I’m sure that eventually it will disappear like wallpaper, but right now, I can’t stop looking at it.
I’ve been told by friends that tattoos are like Pringles. You can’t just stop at one. I guess time will tell. For now, I’ve checked one thing off my bucket list and am pleased to say that I have no regrets. The next thing on the list is finishing the Bus Stop Series. I hope you enjoy it and appreciate all your feedback and kind reviews.
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Embrace your passions!
annmarie
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