Tattoos

I took my son to a birthday party on Saturday. One of the activities was temporary tattoos.

My eight year old does not limit himself to life in the mainstream. He is definitely one of those kids who marches to a different drummer. And that's okay. So when the tattoos came out, he opted out, repeatedly declaring he did not want one. I, however, wanted one. I probably would not have if all of the tattoos were hearts and butterflies. But there were some really cool, black, rocker-type kinds of tats. And I wanted one. Okay, two.

I wonder if it's a middle-age thing. I have a milestone birthday closing in on me. Not too close yet, but enough to start thinking about marking it some way. Perhaps with a tattoo. I guess that would be permanently marking it.

I've always toyed with the idea of getting a tattoo. The primary reason I haven't ever gotten one is the pain factor. And the irreversible decision on placement. But in discussing the pain with a friend, we determined that with enough tequila I probably wouldn't care.

And then I'd have a really cool tattoo.

And a hangover.

I suppose if I'm going to mark the occassion with something so permanent, I should also mark it with something memorable. Aside from the post-mortem hangover. Something like a trip. A trip someplace that requires air travel and a passport. My friend and I can go. Her birthday is only a week before mine and we share the same astrological sun sign. We travel well together. When we can make up our minds.

I think I'd like that. Whaddaya say Lu? You up for it? Tattoos and travel? And tequila?

Who could say no to that?