I've been "out of pocket" for the past couple of weeks, unable to find the time nor the motivation to sit down and compose another post to my blog. Not that there hasn't been an inexhaustible range of topics on which I could espouse my views...unfortunately mostly political in nature. But after a while even I get tired of ranting on continuously about what an empty suit Obama is and how thoroughly appalled I am with the myopic antics of Congress. More and more I just want to pull the covers up over my head and not get out of bed again until I can awake on the morning of election day in 2010 and add my vote to what I hope and anticipate will be thousands of other disgusted and disgruntled citizens who join together in mass to throw these elitist out on their ears.
What has been the biggest news in our family has been my wife Judi's decision to get a tattoo in celebration her 63nd birthday. I kid you not! And with every enterprise my wife undertakes, this decision was not entered into lightly. Having assured that I had no objections - (Remember the old proven axiom, "If Momma is happy, everybody is happy!") - she went on-line for hours pouring over sites that featured anything that had to do with tattoos, asking me what I thought of this one or that one. Playing it safe, I told her that what ultimately floated her pontoon would be okay by me. Next, she purchased a couple sets of stick-on tattoos that she pasted on various parts of her anatomy, again asking my opinion as to type, size, color and location. For my part, that was an interesting exercise in self-restraint. Step number three - take a couple of days and visit several local tattoo parlors to ask a ton of questions to further solidify her final determination. Finally came the day of "go or no go."
Having selected the parlor, the tattoo "artist," and the tattoo of her liking, she requested that I accompany her for the fait accompli. I arrived just as the proprietor of the establishment - he himself a walking billboard for Oriental rugs - had applied the stencil over which the inked-in tattoo would be applied. Twenty minutes later and there in front of God and everybody was a smallish, multi-colored song bird perched on her upper right shoulder blade with a little sixteenth musical note being expelled from its yellow beak. As far as unobtrusive tattoos go, this one was a winner. I've got no complaints. She likes it... I like it... Everybody is happy.
As for me, I have no desire to festoon myself with anything that requires a repeated application of needles. I get queasy whenever I get stuck with that prerequisite pen prick to determine if I can give blood every eight weeks. No, I'll pass on the opportunity to join my dear wife in adorning myself with body art. I did decide, however, to do something as a now empty-nester family that will prove beneficial to more than my desire for self-gratification. I decided we should become foster parents. Below is a photograph we took last week as we were bringing the little fellow home for the first time.
I'll be letting you know in future posts how this act of kindness is working out for all parties concerned.
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