My dear friend and tattoo diva is leaving. Moving back to a sunnier place… sob. I look up to her so much and value her opinion so much- I’m going to be a little lost without her and I’m kicking myself for not making more time to hang out with her in the past.
She helped me for 7 hours in my garden last week… and I knew in her voice that she was serious then. I just didn’t want to even consider it, really.
On my hardest days, when I’m at a cross-roads, when my life is a disaster, when I’m in love… I run for tattoo & sister therapy. I completely embrace my tattoo habit and I will probably be covered at some point. I have no doubt, because I’m already wishing I had more skin to color in. I have a habit… and my habit makes me beautiful.
I have a poppy and a honeybee princess for my daughter, a honeybee for my son and (my favorite) my queen bee. I have a regretful tramp stamp I would love to erase. I have a kanji symbol I’d love to transform into a tomato… I have the ghost orchid for my mother, the dandelion and birds I always wanted and a four leaf clover because I’m the luckiest girl ever when it comes to finding them. I have a poem about love on my foot complete with a little red heart that I adore. I look at my skin and smile when I used to frown.
It’s still a body too chubby for my taste, I still wear the same stretch marks. I just love the beautiful pictures painted into skin I’d previously resented. I’ve never worn flip flops. I hate my feet. Hate them. I have horribly ugly feet and I’m incredibly self conscious about them. Or was. I own three pairs now. I love the tattoo my darling sister-friend drew on my foot just a week before I landed in Puerto Rico with Thomas Murray. It’s gorgeous, and deserves to be shown off. I love that foot now- and there were moments in Puerto Rico that I stared at that foot and tried to channel her.
I also have a beautiful purple orchid that Nathan Steinbauer bought me a few days before my birthday… just before I found out what a pathological liar he is. I’d taken him in with me and he’d bought me a tattoo for my birthday- anything I wanted- no questions asked. He got a military tattoo for the Army Rangers, something he’d always lied about being. He went back for a second one- the day I found out about the other girlfriend.
Through it all, my darling friend has been there… fixing me when it hurts the most, with a beautiful new reason to love the woman that smiles back at me in the mirror.
I got a new one when I panicked over Superman. A beautiful dandelion with birds… feeling like I wished for him and was so fucking scared of something being so good that I was literally flying away from that same wish. Reminding myself to breathe and spoiling myself with some time with one of my favorite people, ever.
I miss her already, and I can’t imagine not having her to run to when I need advice rooted in love and compassion- and not sugar coated or biased. Good old fashioned strong woman advice, from someone I would like to be more like. Gentle in her words and actions, but confident in her ability and worth. She’s the sister I always wanted- and there’s a lump in my throat when I think about saying goodbye to her.
Also in the increased cost of my tattoos, because they’ll have to include a plane ticket from here on out. Sigh.
Another friend of mine was going in for a tattoo today, and it was the perfect excuse for another visit to say hello before it gets a whole lot harder.
We hung out and watched for a while, then chatted before heading out the door.
… and just when you think you’ve seen it all, and your heart is a little sad at the the thought of lost opportunities to make new memories… a new one just jumps right into your lap.
There on the sidewalk outside her door, is a man taking pictures of license plates. Standing in the middle of the road to photograph cars and actually crouching down to take close-ups of license plates. He has a favorite even… the poor innocent red Geo Metro parked directly in front of her shop.
It gets weirder…….. He has his son with him. They’re walking around side by side while the dad squats periodically to take another picture of another license plate. Nobody does a thing- myself included. I weigh my options, to be honest- because I’m dying to hear what his excuse is… but anyone willing to do something that bizarre in front of their kid, obviously has a few screws loose and I love my life these days and treasure my safety.
The blogger in me is already laughing… and I can’t resist… you’re welcome.
This is, after all, why God made iPhones.
and the mother in me has to stop for a moment and hope his wife or this child’s mother reads my blog… because this is worth a chat with good ol’ Dad about the crazy example he’s setting, if nothing else.
My daughter is instantly sympathizing with that poor kid, who must be so embarrassed… but my girlfriend and I are more than a little sketched out by him…. and his love for the Geo.
We waited to leave until he’d wandered on to photograph more license plates…. sort of hoping he’d be taking one of ours when we got there… (thankfully, no such luck.)
My daughter and I both climbed into the car and said simultaneously…
J & R- I’m sad she’s leaving, and gosh that was funny.
Another crazy funny memory with a woman I’m going to miss SO much. She gave me my Blogoddess tattoo the week my blog went viral and I was having a mild nervous breakdown. She’s filled in the blanks and taught me to not only love myself, but to love myself enough that I don’t have to give anyone an explanation about who or what I am.
She’s fixed the tattoos I hated, made beautiful the things about my body I resented & has been by my side during some of the most epic moments in my life.
I miss her already.
But no matter how far she goes… we’ll always have the Geo Metro Stalker.