It’s the end of summer bank holiday this weekend. This means that Monday is a stay at home and stay away from work day. I took off Friday and Tuesday as well, because that is how I roll.
When I made the decision to take off these days I saw the whole weekend as an empty expanse of time. A treasure of a blank five-day weekend. Then everything changed. First we decided to replace the fencing in our back garden. No big, it’s a tiny garden. Then two people sent out birthday party invites. Then there was an opening at a gallery we like. Then the pub down the road announced they were having a boot fair in the ballroom (boot fair = craft fair / rummage sale in American), then another party was announced for Friday night, THEN I got an email from a friend announcing that I was expected to play Rounders (a game which makes absolutely no discernible sense at all) on Monday.
What the fuck dudes? I mean it! I know this probably sounds miserable of me, you’re all like, oh poor Carolyn her life is so hard, she’s just TOO damn popular. But for real, I just wanted to buy some full fat milk for my coffee that I would drink whilst sitting in the corner of the second bedroom whilst trying to write a goddamn book and all these jerks (aka my really awesome and wonderful friends) keep planning really awesome and wonderful sounding events. Maybe if I just don’t sleep until Tuesday I’ll have time for everything?
I read this article about the book Half the Sky and its authors this morning. I really want to pick up the book now as it sounds like an excellent way at looking at the struggle for global equality for women. I like that they appear to be focussing on ways to actively engage people and that they are being very savvy about involving people and not overwhelming them.
Take a look at the article and the book and even the website set up around it which shows what actual women have done and what we can do too.
So I went in and talked to one of the guys at The Family Business Tattoo Shop yesterday after work. And he did not laugh at me at all (except for when I thanked him for not being mean about my horrible tattoo, he thought that was funny, and technically was laughing with me, not AT me).
I showed him my ankle, and we talked about what I wanted done. I showed him the image I found that I think will work well as a cover up. A botanical illustration this time rather than a line drawing. I’m not sure if it will look just like the picture, but it will be inspired by it and I would like it to have some colour this time around.
He sat me down with some artist books and I chose the one I liked best, a visiting artist from California it turns out. He had lots of intricate work in his book, plenty of floral motifs, and lots of other really awesome looking work. So I gave the nice man at the counter a deposit and he booked me in for a consult on 21 Sept and then the actual tattoo on the 23rd.
As we get nearer to the day I’ll post a before photo so you, dear reader(s), can have a good laugh at my expense. You can treat the atrocity as it were a tiny cloud and make guesses at what you think it looks like as you shake your head(s) and say ‘Oh Carolyn, that’s what you get for going to *Redacted*!’ Although if you lived in or around Detroit in the 90s and you remember a tattoo chain that regularly advertised on the television, you’ll know just how foolish I was. Jeremy often looks at my ankle and says, ‘God, Blank Blankers. I can’t believe I married you.’
He’s just the sweetest.
So yeah, I’m finally doing this. And now that I’m done with feeling embarrassed I’m starting to feel pretty excited.
Maybe I’ll get the Virgin Mary tattooed on my back while I’m at it, and a couple tear drops to help prove my street cred.
So I called the place and now I need to stop by in person so they can take a look at the atrocity. Once they have examined the atrocity they will let me know if one of their artists is suited to fixing/covering it. So tonight I shall tamp down my embarrassment and begin to show professionals what I did to myself (really what I allowed some hack on 9 Mile to do to me back in 1999, but that’s neither here nor there at this point).
Did you also know that shortly after getting my tattoo, it got really infected and as a result it looks nothing like it’s supposed to look?
Also a true fact.
When I was 22 and about to move from Detroit to Las Vegas I decided I needed to commemorate the occasion by getting a sprig of rosemary tattooed on the inside of my left ankle. Rosemary being for remembrance and all. And me being a big nostalgic nerd with a love for the doomed ladies of Shakespeare. It looked like it was meant to look for a couple days and then the infection set in, and now 11 years on (Really 11 years? How did that happen?) it looks nothing like it was meant to look. It hasn’t looked like it was meant to look since those first few days.
So I need to get the stupid thing fixed. I’m telling you about this, here on the internets so I can get over the embarrassment of having a stupid ugly 11-year-old tattoo and work up the ovaries to call the tattoo parlour I found and book a consultation.
At least I can blame it all on my misspent youth, although it’s probably easier to do that if there’s an exboyfriend’s name inked on your skin rather than a reference to an Elizabethan play.
So my eldest niece returned to Michigan yesterday after visiting for just under a week. Based on her Facebook updates I am under the impression that she had a good time.
Jeremy and I have our house back to ourselves again, which is nice. No matter how much we enjoy having company there’s still also a massive sense of relief when company leaves. A huge sigh of ‘Yes,’ my space is my own again. Yesterday I peed with the bathroom door open, worry free! Oh the luxury. This morning I ironed my shirt whilst wearing only my bra and trousers! Imagine that! Or rather don’t imagine that. I’d rather not take this blog in that direction as I’m really not that sort of girl.
I had yesterday afternoon off and spent a portion of it in the bookstore in East Dulwich. Chener Books doesn’t have especially friendly hours for those of us who work from 9 to 5, but is a very nice little shop so I try to stop in when I can (also good if you’re in SE London and looking for a book: Review on Bellenden Road. They have a dog and slightly more friendly hours for the working stiff.) because not only is it (as mentioned) a nice little shop, but also because it is important to support independent bookstores so they don’t disappear.
I bought two books, The Mistress’s Daughter by AM Homes, and Two Serious Ladies by Jane Bowles. The woman working the counter told me that AN Homes is one of her favourite authors and then saw my second book and said ‘Oh this is on my To Read list! Maybe we have similar taste in books?’ This statement made me feel vastly ashamed of the romance novel in my hand bag. Perhaps it’s time to push some more ‘serious’ reading into my book rotation. I’ve been buying quite a lot of them recently and they just sit on the shelf and that is lame. Not that I’ll give up on the romance novels but my brain probably needs some more exercise.
That said, if you want to read some intelligent and fun romance you should totally check out Joanna Bourne. She writes historicals about spies! They are really good.
Wait, I had a point I wanted to get to when I started typing and now I’ve forgotten it and written up yet another scattered blog entry. I need to focus this blog somehow. Anybody feel like telling me what I should write about?