Merry Christmas Eve

Oliver got a tattoo.

It's Sophie's birthdate in Roman numerals. As he said, "Now we each have a tattoo for Sophie."

I have a mermaid, Henry has a bit of Sophie's brainwaves from an EEG and now Oliver has her birthday.

Merry Christmas Eve!

Mermaids and Flying Panthers

My friend Allison Ray Benevides and her husband Rob own this amazing tattoo place in San Diego called Flying Panther. I drove down on Saturday afternoon and into a world that I really have never experienced.

So much beautiful art on the walls and on the bodies of those working. Here's Sue:

Do you feel a little shaky? Do you have a presentiment?

Art by Rob Benevides

Do you remember what I was going to do by my 50th birthday?

That's me and Allison. I can assure you that I had already downed not one but two shots of straight vodka and thus look a bit bleary, but in real life, I swear my head isn't that big nor hers that small.

Why the vodka?

Whose arm is Sue gripping?

Take a break, Sue says, it hurts the most when you're close to the artery.

So, yes. I finally got my mermaid tattoo. That smile is a gritty one because it hurt a bit, but I did a whole lot of deep breathing, reminded myself of three childbirths and that time in ninth grade when I had a whole lot of packing in my nose after surgery and had to have it pulled out, and then -- to tell you the truth -- the pain felt sort of exhilarating.  I understand that there's a rushy kind of feeling while being tattooed and afterward, and it's distinct from the buzz of alcohol. I felt it.

Lest you think I've gone completely mad given the circumstances, I'll remind you that I'm 52 years old and have wanted to do this well before I was firmly middle-aged. So, I'm only partly a cliche. Still, it's a radical departure from the me that is me. Next thing you know, I'll be running in the Los Angeles marathon, swearing off pastries, vaping weed and avidly reading those books about the different shades of grey.

Well, maybe all of it except the marathon.

#DontStarePaparazzi, Number 456

Sophie and I walked up to LACMA today to wander around the Southeast Asian galleries. Rather, I walked and Sophie was pushed in her wheelchair. We love the Southeast Asian galleries because they're dim and quiet and peaceful, and barely anyone is there. I feel immediately restored when I'm there, and Sophie seems to be lulled by them as well. She's having some withdrawal symptoms the last week or so and is unsteady on her feet as well as easily tired. Lord knows I need the exercise, so I was pushing her along at a good clip when a tall young man pushing two little ones in a stroller came around a corner and passed me. The little girl, facing us, was fascinated by Sophie and literally didn't stop poking her head around her father's legs to gawk. Granted, Sophie was chewing agitatedly on some muti-colored chew beads, her face was probably wet from drool and I'm -- well -- if not a raving beauty to stare at, then certainly a witch. I smiled in the grim way of witches and kept up my pace. Reader, I just have never gotten used to the staring.

Oh, and while the photo is blurry, the tattoos on the backs of the guy's legs are EYES. So there was that, too.

Staycation, Day Two

Henry and Oliver are on spring break this week, and we have no plans. Sophie is back in school. We're sleeping in when we can and hanging out for the most part. Today, we took a trip downtown on the metro for a visit to Little Tokyo, or Japantown.

We got out of the train at beautiful Union Station and then walked a few blocks to a tiny restaurant that served typical Japanese ramen, teriyaki and tempura.

Then we wandered into and out of little stores, filled with Japanese stuff, both traditional and hip. I've never really "gotten" the modern Japanese culture -- anime, Hello Kitty, metrosexual fashions -- but I did like these glasses:

Dang. I should have bought them.

After browsing through many of these stores and arguing with Oliver over his desire to own a Japanese saw (they're so cool, Mom, and they cut wood so much better!), we made our way to the Japanese-American Museum. Oliver's disappointment was transformed by an interesting Los Angeles Dodgers baseball exhibit that demonstrated the integration of African American, Japanese and other minority players on the team. I feigned interest, relieved that they were largely silent and, for once, united in their mutual love of baseball.

We then walked upstairs and saw an incredible Japanese tattoo exhibit called Perseverance. 

I was bowled over by the beauty and artistry of the tattoos.

Remember when I said that I was going to get one when I turned 50 last August? Hmmmmmmm.

Birthday Tattoo Call

My birthday is in a little over a week, and I plan on getting my first (and probably, last) tattoo. I think a small, simple mermaid on the inside of my left wrist is what I'd like, but I'm not sure if it should be black and white or colored or a bit of both. The sketch above is by an artist friend of mine who used it for a birthday card for Sophie a while back -- I like the simple lines and elegance (minus the flower, of course) and even the tiny bit of green and red. What do you think?

What about this one?

Ideas? Send me links!

My Half Century Plan

via apartment therapy

So, in exactly one month, I'll be fifty years old. I love a birthday, mine included. I'm decidedly not the no gifts, please girl. So. This is what I want for my birthday:

1. Two weeks in the above little house on the Isle of Wight.
2. A trip to County Sligo, along the paths that Yeats walked 
3. A paddle board lesson in a slimming wet-suit with a cute surfer guy of any age
4. A tiny, perfect mermaid tattoo on my left inner wrist
5. A car tour through Badlands National Park, perhaps tripping on a tiny amount of an hallucinogenic

Reader, don't you wonder which of these I'll do?