cozy nights indoors · I Wanna Hold Your Hand movie · tattoos · The Beatles

I showed you the fronts of my legs, so let’s take a look at the backs of them, shall we?

I had a really good night last night. I ran some errands during the day, one of which was picking up some firewood because it was finally spitting snow here in central Ohio. I thought to myself–what the hell is the point of having a fireplace if we never have fires?!

Am I right, or am I right?

So I had a roast and potatoes going in the oven, we had some lovely drinks of the alcoholic persuasion to choose from, and now we had firewood. The stage was set for a kick-ass evening.

Bill made the fire and both the kitties curled up near it.

I even went so far to bump this whole perfect scenario up a notch by selecting movies to watch as I sprawled in front of the fireplace too. The first flick to pop into my mind was a classic from 1978 that I’ve seen a million times but not recently–

A little cinematic gem called I Wanna Hold Your Hand starring Wendie Jo Sperber, Pam Allen and Eddie Deezan. Have you ever seen it? It’s about a crew of kids taking off for NYC in February 1964 to find their ways into the Plaza Hotel to meet The Beatles. It’s basically hilarious and a super-cute little movie. I’ve always liked it. I relate to Sperber’s character Rosie who loves and wants to marry Paul. I bet a crap ton of women can probably relate to Rosie.

Wendie Jo was so funny. ❤

Here she is as Rosie, moments away from the Beatles taking the stage on the Ed Sullivan Show.

I have felt like this a few times in my life. And it’s one of my favorite ways to feel.

So I Wanna Hold Your Hand was popped into the dvd player and I lounged on the floor in front of the fire with a pillow under my head and my kitties nearby and I watched the movie again. I thought to myself–when I was a 13 year old girl, newly infatuated with the Fab Four, all I ever wanted to do was listen to their records, read books about them, or watch shows about them or write stories about them. I LOVED them. Last night I felt rather thirteeny and it was lovely.

A perk to being 52 as opposed to 13 is you can do pretty much whatever the hell you want when you want. And that’s always cool.

I thought about asking my husband to take a picture of my two relatively-new tattoos on the backs of my calves last night, but I didn’t get around to it. I was thinking it would be cool to share them on my blog and my Facebook.
Well, this morning I got on Instagram and my friend who did the tattoos posted them on his account. I was like–hey, that guy read my mind!

Let’s take a look, shall we?

File tattoos under “cool things you can do when you’re grown up”. ❤

Tattoos done by Matt at Thrill Vulture Tattoos in Westerville, Ohio. 🙂

These here are my George and Ringo tattoos. I love ’em. Here Comes the Sun is my favorite song ever. Helter Skelter is also a good time. When Paul plays that live and I’m there to see it, I basically lose my shit. In a good way.

I shall finish this post by showing my two other Beatles tattoos I’ve had for awhile because, you know, I gotta be fair.

John self portrait (also by Matt) ❤

This next one I’m going to share is the first Beatles tattoo I ever got. Also by Matt. I told him I dreamed of having a Hofner bass on my arm. I’ll never forget when I went in to the shop that day to get it done and he showed me the sketch he made. I was SO EXCITED. It was even better than I could have ever imagined. But that’s what I’ve come to expect with my tattooers.

I have a lot of tattoos, and I am not going to lie–this one is one of my favorites.

A thing of beauty ❤

I hope you enjoyed this little peek at my skin and glimpse into my love of The Fab Four.

One things is 4 sure–

A love like ours will never die as long as I have them near me. ❤

chronic pain · pelvic floor dysfunction · Red Hot Chili Peppers · spirit animals · tattoos

The Snake and the Sparrow

Hi.

How are you?

It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written anything here, so today I said to myself…what the hell. I was uploading pics to use here when I came across a cool shot of my legs after I got them freshly tattooed a year ago. I thought–I’ll tell the story of my snake and my sparrow. People will be dying to hear about that. Right?

But first, let’s hear a song from the Red Hot Chili Peppers album One Hot Minute. How about this one. It reminds me of the time my sister and I went to see RHCP because we mainly went to see the opener Foo Fighters. This was in 1999. We got to the venue when over the speakers came the announcement that Foo Fighters would not be preforming because Dave Grohl was experiencing a health issue. Pretty sure he had a stomach virus thing. We were so bummed, but on we went to enjoy the show. Our seats we had purchased that day were clear up like in the 5th to the last row. Way up there. It was actually scary climbing and descending those stairs. Which we did often because my sister drank 5 beers throughout the night. She would look at me and go, “I want another one.” and I’d go, “you want another one?” and she’d go, “yeh.” So there we would go, holding hands, to get more beer. It was fun.

So at one point that night, Flea sat on his amp with his bass and sang this song and my sister and I laughed and laughed.

Enjoy.

https://youtu.be/BXJjBo_u3WM
Okay, on to the tale you’ve all been waiting to hear.

So remember back in late 2017/early 2018 when I was amazingly sick with fucking pelvic pain? Of course you do. I talk about it a lot here. When I actually talk here. Anyway, during that horrific time, I tried all kinds of things to help myself feel better. One of the better things I did was get massages from my friend Rowynn. She’s also a hypnotherapist and we did some of that work together too. She really did try to help me figure out what the hell was going on at the root of my pain and she did help me immensely.

One time while she was working on me, I had a very clear vision of three-headed snake snapping at people who were trying to take advantage of me or be mean to me or screw with my pretty much nonexistent boundaries.

See? Even then, before I knew I had TMS or even knew what TMS was, I knew my repressed emotions were playing a part in my pain. Hell! They were what caused the pain!

Anyway,

The snake I saw is a symbol of protection and wisdom.

I ended up getting a rattlesnake tattoo on my right leg. My friend Matt did it. It’s awesome.

The snake has also come to represent my pain which was centered in my tailbone. Something upset me or stressed me out? My tailbone hurt. Bad. I couldn’t sit for any length of time. I had such pressure there that it felt like my entire ass might fall out all the time. Sometimes it would burn. Sometimes it would buzz. It always scared the hell out of me. It took me a long time to figure out I needed to listen to what my pain was trying to tell me.

Rowynn will still ask me if I’m struggling with something—what’s your snake saying?

A little while after I was introduced to my rattlesnake, at another appointment with Rowynn, I had a clear vision of a little sparrow sitting in the doorway of a cage looking back and forth like it was thinking to itself—“can I really just fly the hell out of here now? I’m free to go?”

That vision was a wake up call. Like—all the shit that has ever held me back–is gone. Even the old me, who was constantly searching for ways to make everyone else happy, while all the while pretty much ignoring my own wants or needs, was gone. When I endured that pain, I isolated myself. I ignored everyone in my life with the exception of my husband and kids and my one friend Rowynn. I had to. I couldn’t deal with my pain AND having to deal with other people.

It was a very hard but educational time. I changed so much.

That little sparrow looking around at the open sky made me cry. I also envisioned her taking off. And that was very inspiring.

The freedom to do or don’t do what I want and for who I want! Even the freedom to just really be myself. With no apologies whatsoever.

I am the sparrow.

Soon after that vision, I got a sparrow tattoo on my left leg. My friend Naomi did it. It’s awesome.

When I got the sparrow done, I explained to my tattooer buddies…

The snake means

*Leave me the fuck alone!*

The sparrow means

*I’m getting the fuck out of here!*

So there you have it. The story of my snake and my sparrow. Two bad-ass spirit animals, if you will,

always with me in my mind and on my legs.

Tattoos done by Naomi and Matt at Thrill Vulture Tattoo in Westerville Ohio ❤️

bl5
choices · Goddess · Horses · Patti Smith · tattoos · The Godmother of Punk · turning 50

Making the Right Choices

So.

The event I semi-dreaded for the past year came and went last week.

And what do you know–I didn’t self-destruct.

I turned 50 last Monday.

A joke regarding growing older goes–

Well, it’s better than the alternative!

And yeah. I guess it is.

Anyway…I really did have a lovely birthday weekend. I ate out way more than any human should, and I got to see my grown children and their significant others for lunch on Sunday. On my actual birthday, my son’s girlfriend had him call (how much do you think I appreciate that?) and he told me he loved me before we hung up, and his girlfriend and I got to talk for a little while too, and my daughter wrote a really sweet thing about how much she loves me on Facebook for everyone to see and right before I fell asleep that night she and a couple of friends called and sang Happy Birthday to me.

I spent the evening of my 50th on a date with the man who makes my life a great place to be. We went out for pizza at the place we’ve been going to get pizza from for the past 1 million years.

My special day turned out exactly how I wanted it to be:

Simple. Easy. Familiar. Comfortable. Nice.

I also got to see both of my sisters that night too and that was good.

So, as far as gifts for a girl like me…

If you recall me mentioning before, anytime there’s a gift giving occasion, I pretty much always want the same thing.

 

I had an appointment to get a tattoo. And I had to put some thought into what I wanted to get because for a long time I couldn’t think of anything I wanted. I had knocked around the idea of getting Mary. You know, the Mother of Jesus? Because out of all of those scary-ass characters I was introduced to as a little girl in church, she was the only one I wasn’t freaked out by. As in–okay, these stories are really scary, but there’s the one lady in the book who wears a scarf on her head who looks like she would hug me and be nice if I got too weirded out by whales and floods and crosses and that devil character.

Also, Mary is beautiful. I like her star halo. I’d wear a star halo like that if I ever got the chance.

I thought about getting her on my arm, but I never really felt 100% gung ho with the idea. I don’t practice the religions she is associated with, and even though she is my favorite in the Bible, I didn’t want anything from the Bible or Christianity on me for eternity. That boat sailed a long time ago and I don’t miss it one bit.

Then I thought, hey wait. How about a goddess? As in, a beautiful woman with a triple crown across her forehead. That’s kinda more my style.

I don’t believe in God as in a real supernatural being somewhere in the universe controlling shit, but when I am super-stressed out and/or in need of comforting, I like to envision a woman out there, somewhere in the stars….

A beautiful grandma-type, who thinks I can do no wrong, who loves me no matter what, sitting in a big rocking chair. She’s always ready to listen to me and whatever I’ve got to say when I need her. That’s my idea of a good God.

That could work as a tattoo, I thought. So I made the appointment to get her on my arm.

A couple of weeks ago, when Bill and I were out to dinner talking about the tattoo I would get for my birthday, I had mentioned I had given a little thought to getting a Patti Smith inspired tattoo. But I didn’t know if it would look good or what. And then I told him about the Goddess idea and he said to me–

Well, who is a bigger inspiration to you?

And I was like, Patti.

He made a good point. He’s good for that kind of thing. So I thought about that for a moment, then we dropped the subject and moved on.

So fast forward to my birthday last Monday. I was feeling weird that morning, just sitting in my recliner, drinking my coffee, turning 50. Feeling old, getting older, feeling blah about it all. I was sitting there scrolling through my Facebook and I clicked on a video of Patti singing Gloria at a show in 2015. There she was with her long grey hair and sweet smile, wearing her jeans and jacket, dancing with Lenny at her side, singing her version of that song we all love, the crowd singing with her, throwing her fist in the air to punctuate each letter

G!  L!  O!  R!  I-i-i-i!  G-L-O-R-I-A!

It was awesome. That chick has so much energy and she’s so cool. Poet. Mother. Artist. Says OUT LOUD what she wants. Watching that video lifted my mood. I thought to myself–What the hell. Would Patti be sitting around, feeling sorry for herself turning 50? I don’t know. Maybe she gets down every now and then. But in that moment, I was inspired, like I always am, by Patti Smith. I thought, I need to quit dicking around here, get up and get going and have a good day.

Before I did, I posted the video on my Facebook and told all 311 of my friends that I want to be like Patti Smith.

I texted my tattoo artist friends later that day and said–hey, can I get a Patti tattoo instead?

So here ya go.

Done last Wednesday by my friend Naomi Fuller-Brown at her amazing shop Thrill Vulture Tattoo in beautiful uptown Westerville, OH.

I have to say, I love it.

I made the right choice.

It’s not Mary. It’s not the Goddess

It’s so much better than that.

It’s Patti fucking Smith!

He saw Horses Horses Horses Horses Horses Horses Horses Horses!

Yeah. ❤

patti tattoo 2

being who you are · confidence · fearless · Mother's Day · tattoos · what other people think

Calm the Hell Down. It’s Going to be Great.

Today I should be totally excited, but I feel like I could barf a little bit.

I’m going this afternoon to get my Mother’s Day gift from Bill. Two new tattoos.

Any gift giving occasion, I pretty much always want tattoos. This is nothing new. But where I’m putting these tattoos is new. And for some reason, I’m kinda nervous about it.

A while back, I saw a picture of a girl wearing some really snappy looking black shoes…I was shopping for shoes for Xmas for myself. Sometimes I want something different from tattoos. Not often, mind you.

But anyway…she had on these cool shoes and right above her feet but below her rolled up pants, she had 2 black and grey tattoos on her legs, like on the fronts of her ankles. Nothing big. But pretty damn cool. And I’ve been a little obsessed ever since.

So now I have an appointment today at 4:00. After I get these babies done, Bill is taking me out to one of our favorite diners near the shop. That’s like one of my favorite life combos…tattoos followed by burgers, beers and tater tots.

Why am I so nervous. I actually have heartburn over it.

You know what? I guess I always get a little scared before. Not because of the pain or whatever. I don’t care about that. I guess part of me wonders, or worries, what people might think.

Stupid, right? I mean, I already have lots of tattoos. I love them all. I have zero regrets. Sometimes I wonder if people look at me and say–um, how old is she? What is she trying to prove? You know some people are like that. People who have nothing better to do but to judge others.

Then I get mad at myself because who gives a shit what other people think. That’s not how I roll. I mean, I used to, back in the old days when stuff like that mattered to me. Even then having to think about that pissed me off. To be honest, nowadays the only people I really worry about the opinions of are my husband and two kids. And they love me. They think I look good. I think.

Isn’t not caring what other people think of you anymore one of the perks of getting older? I think it’s supposed to be.

I just need to calm the fuck down and switch gears. Start being excited about it. They’re just a couple of little flowers on my legs, no big deal. Think how cute they’ll look with some bitchin’ shoes like that girl had on. And ooh, how about some painted toenails running barefoot?!

One time, a couple years ago, I went to see a therapist. Back when I was going through some shit. She was really nice. We talked for an hour and then I never went back because neither of us thought I really needed a therapist. I told her one of my biggest problems is being scared to put myself out there. You know, as in writing and just basically saying what I really want to say.

She told me–You look like someone who’s not afraid of anything.

That remains one of my favorite things that anyone has ever said to me.

So what’s two more tattoos? I’ll tell you what they are.

They’re me. They’re totally me.

I’m going to shut up now and go get cleaned up. I gotta do a number on my feet so they are extra inoffensive today. Can you imagine being a tattoo artist? I bet they see and smell some gnarly body parts sometimes. Gross.

Well, they ain’t going to be getting any of that from me.

Wish me luck. If anyone is reading this…hello, anyone?…I’ll post pics later.

So get ready.

Happy Thursday.

empty-nesters · grown children · home redecorating · homeschooling · music · owning a business · pets · summer of love · tattoos · turning 50 · writing

light my fire

Hi there. And welcome.

You’ve gone and stumbled upon what I like to call “my new blog”.

I used to have a blog I loved writing not too long ago. I had to give it up, though, because we got a new puppy last February, and let me tell you–my life turned upside down when we brought her home. After having our old dog (she passed away) for so long, who was a complete gem and totally easy to care for, having a puppy in the house again was rather overwhelming. I was frustrated a lot by all of my free time things I liked to do–blogging being one of them–having to go by the wayside in exchange for puppyhood antics and basic training.

But give my hobbies up I did. I’m happy to report that puppy has turned 1 and life in our home has settled considerably and things have kinda gone back to normal.

So now I’m back and ready to write stuff I have no idea anybody besides me will care too much about.

But let’s give it another whirl, shall we?

Here’s a fun twist. Along with my new calmer life and fresh start to my blogging career, I am adding the fun-filled event of turning 50 years old to my line up of things to do this year.

You heard me right–50.

In July.

I am a Summer of Love baby (hence the blog name). I dig that about myself. But now here I am, getting ready to click over to an age that kinda freaks me out. I’ve never been freaked out by aging before now. In fact, I love my birthday. I love all birthdays. After we meet, I will remember your birthday way before I remember your name. I like to make big whoop-dee-doos over birthdays.

This one I find myself dreaded months way ahead.

Friends and family I’ve discussed this with blow off my apprehension and tell me–Oh, you’re young!! Well, okay…I know I’m not like 90 or anything, but I still feel like 50 is a number to be reckoned with. You can’t really claim being “young” anymore after you’ve hit the big 5-0. And, truth be told, my body is starting to pull shit on me. Painful heel, knee twinges, backaches. That kind of stuff.

Let me tell you a story real quick:

This past Saturday I went shopping and as I made my way into Macy’s, my shoelaces weren’t tied very tight and my (painful) heels were slipping around in my shoes. I found myself thinking–I hope when I get in this place there’s somewhere I can sit so I can retie my shoes.

I’ve never had to consider pre-planned sitting before. I mean, not for myself at least. And don’t you know, there was nowhere to sit inside the store doors. So I thought-screw it…I’m going to bend down and tie these shoes. I can do it!

There was an older lady standing there putting on her coat and gloves and scarf. I thought, okay–if I get stuck on the floor she can help me. So I crouched and started untying and retying. It took some effort on my part, but I did it. Then I was off and shopping and it all worked out okay.

But what the hell was that?!

I’ll tell you what that was.

That was me…hot on the heels of 50.

So yeh. These are the kinds of stories I plan on telling here.

Admit it.. you’re hooked, aren’t you.

If you’re not totally convinced yet, here’s a little more insight about me and the kind of stuff you might find me discussing here…

I made my career out of being a stay-at-home mom with our 2 kids. We homeschooled with the exception of the one year our son attended kindergarten. After that, we took off on our own. Those were some great-ass years. I was a really good mom. I still am, I guess, but the kids are grown now. They only need me here and there, and that’s good–the way it should be, you know? Hubby of 100 years and I are now empty-nesters. We own a small business we started on a shoestring. My husband runs that operation with some help from me. It’s just the two of us and has been for the past 14 years. We’ve lived in our house, which is tiny and adorable and really fun to redecorate and keep uncommonly immaculate now that there are no children around, for the past 24 years. We have pets I will more than likely mention way more than most people might enjoy. But what can I say, we think those furballs are the shit. My husband is a guitar player. I like to think someday I’ll write something good enough to make it on to a bookstore shelf. I’m covered in tattoos, love clothes and music and books and am hellbent on feeling as young as I can for as long as I can.

Which brings us back to that whole turning 50 thing. Remember?

I definitely remember.

All right. If you’ve read this whole thing I’d like to say thank you. Come back again if you want. Say hi.

I’m going to go fill up my coffee cup again and take a cruise around to see if I can find some interesting other blogs to read.

It feels good to be back. 🙂

Til next time, please enjoy this rockin’ tune–the Doors’ mega-hit that was #1 song on the charts the day I was born.

Pretty appropriate for a Summer of Love baby, don’t you think?