I ran across this article today on Metafilter. You can login with the username and password anonymous.

I got a tattoo nearly 7 years ago. It is a kanji. Of course, I don’t read nor do I write Japanese. After I finish this post, I am going to try and forget I ever read that article.

I had wanted a tattoo for a long time, but had always talked myself out of the idea. It seemed unseemly. I thought that girls (back then I still thought of myself as a girl) like me didn’t get tattooed. I wondered what people would think – especially when I was an old woman with a tattoo.

When I decided to get my tattoo there were many different – some horrible, some wonderful – things happening in my life. I made up my mind that if I indeed lived into a ripe old age, that people who might see my tattoo would think ‘Wow, she must have had an interesting life’. If not, then screw ’em.

I began researching – asking around about the best place. I even bought an ink pad and stamped myself to see if I would like the way it looked. I went on a Sunday. I roped a friend into going with me. When we got to the tattoo parlor – or studio– the guy there asked if we had an appointment. I could not believe what I was hearing! An appointment!! It was a Sunday morning for christsakes – it never occurred to me that I would need an appointment! We had to wait. During the forty-five minute wait, we got to talking with another client.

I wish now that I had come home and immediately written that conversation down on paper. So many of the details have left me. What I do remember is that this guy was vividly tattooed. And while I would not chose that for myself, I couldn’t help but admire the artistry involved in his pictures. He had a garden of iris on his right calf. They looked like a water color! Most of his tattoos were a memorial, or recognition of either a person or an event. They were commemorative.

I think of mine that way too. It is commemorative. The moment I did what I wanted to do – not necessarily the ‘right, mother-approved’ thing – the right thing for me. It was the first time I thought about and rejected anyone’s opinion but my own. And no matter what a Japanese linguist would say – for me it will always mean flourish, glory & shine.

He won’t knit! subservient ,my eye!

After a quick tutorial, I have some pictures to share!!

poncho for J

I see that I should always use the flash — I used it with the doll’s poncho and that is a more accurate depiction of the color. I am trying to figure out how to keep these images small in order to do the ‘pop up’ feature. any bloggers out there with a hint??

Perhaps this confession of mine will set the women’s movement back a pace or two …. I feel that in the interests of full disclosure it is necessary.

We got the new camera. It seems to be great. I have not figured it out yet. The reason is simple – My Boar hasn’t hooked it up yet. It would seem I am a fragile female waiting for him to do it. I don’t feel all that fragile, I certainly don’t look or act very delicate — and yet I wait. In all things electronic or gas powered, I wait for him. He will read through the brochure, hook it up to the computer and then explain it all to me. I will then ask him some question, which he will not know how to answer and only then I will consult the book. At this point, I may or may not (depending on my level of interest) become more conversant than he. This is how we do things. It is our own little dance – we know all the moves. If either of us doesn’t follow our choreographed steps, we risk tipping over in an inelegant heap.

So, I wait – and you wait for the poncho pictures.

If he doesn’t do his part by tonight, I may just barge ahead without him – no doubt unplugging some essential something from the back of the mother-board or whatever the hell it is called.

While you are waiting, check this out — fun with Easter Treats: