babies and tattoos....but not baby tattoos, or tattoos of babies

What a short weekend. I spent almost all day Saturday at Karen's house, finishing up the super secret knitting project. We ate lunch and dinner together, and I left around midnight. It was great to finally spend a lot of time together and talk about all the things we've been meaning to discuss.

I'll have pics of the project, if someone sends them to me ever so graciously (hint hint guys), as I forgot my camera for the event today and had to make my idle hands busy with finger foods. Mmm, cheese straws. If I had fondled some yarn, I probably would have been ok and potentially could have avoided the panic attacks followed by uttering the word "baby". Regardless, I won a sweet prize for keeping my mouth shut more often than everyone else. At least when it came to the "b" word.

And on that front, I think the hubs and I have come to an understanding that neither of us will ever really turn to the other and say, "honey, let's have kids right now". Therefore, we've decided that if it's not an accident, it isn't meant to be. On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being "hell no, I'll slit my wrists and throw myself in front of traffic before I'll ever reproduce" and 10 being "please god, impregnate me now via your divine essence so that we may be fruitful and multiply like insane bunnies", we both sit at a comfortable 7: "if it happens, cool, we'll make the world a better place with the fusion of our awesomeness, but if not, no one will cry...not really hard anyway...ok maybe just a little".

Guess it would be wise to inform the parents so they can stop calling me every month to see if I'm "regular". My common response is, "yes mom, I just made number 2, and there were floaters AND sinkers!". Her reply is usually, "jeez you're so gross....you're gonna be a great mom".


Scout posted that she wanted to see some flesh art, and I happen to sport a bit of ink.



This one is my first tattoo, and is now quite faded. I swear there used to be some yellow in there somewhere. Anyway, it's on my left shoulder blade, and I got it when I was 20. I designed it myself, with a bit of fleshing out by the artist. It took about 40 minutes, and I swore I was going to die. It was the first major defining act (and there were many) of my independent adulthood. We all know the debauchery that shortly followed.




I got the lotus done over the course of several months, during the summer of 2004. I love it, even though it's a lot bigger than I intended. I had an initial design in mind, and the artist and I worked over it several times until we got something I absolutely couldn't live without. What started as a simple little geometric design across the lower back became an intense 5.5 hour exercise in patience and the art of breathing through the pain. And my skin reacted very negatively, which meant that I could only sit for an hour at a time. Getting up the nerve to go back every few weeks was tough. But I couldn't be happier, and it was definitely worth it.

Would I ever get another? Probably not. Five hours was enough.