Sometimes I tell you things that happen right away. Like last week’s Cauliflower Steak. Or some momentous event that shouldn’t wait. Like birthdays and rainbow cakes.
And sometimes, well, the blog topic gets added to a unwieldly list of blog topics so I don’t forget to write about it, but just can’t (for a multitude of reasons) right away.
This is that.
When the assignment from the folks at Hallmark came down asking to talk about celebrating life’s special occasions, I knew this was as good a time as any.
To tell you about my first tattoo.
Because it was totally a special occasion. Made even more special by sharing it with friends who were getting their firsts also.
It was last October. Regular readers know that this was something I have gone back and forth about for years. Is it too late to get a tattoo? Am I too old? Will I regret it? I would have days where I would resolutely decide “yes, I’m doing it.” And then moments when I saw someone else’s and it was a turn off and my mind instantly changed. And I knew that I couldn’t be wishy-washy about this. At all. Because, you know, commitment.
So sometime earlier last year, I had finally stopped waffling and decided yes. That was it. But then the where? and the what? For me, the place was simple. Because I didn’t want to hide it. And I knew it would be small. Just one word.
I toyed with a few words, but kept coming back to the same one. I played around with fonts, not settling on anything.
But then one Fall afternoon, it all came together. Magically. Like it was supposed to be.
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