Friday, May 28, 2010


Okay. In general I'm not a fan of tattoos. Reason: They are PERMANENT.

Some things are cute/good/regrettable/fun for the moment and then ... the rest of your life.

So ... Mark and I have a day off from helping the Young family here in Oauha. So we enjoy a coffee almost at sunrise, along walk along the shore of Kailua with engaged conversation (okay, I admit this one requires the suspension of reality for those married more that 10 years, but really--it happened). We walk around the town, book store (purchase Heroes for the grandchildren), more coffee, chatting the locals and then, then I decided to shake it up a bit. I say to Mr. Conservative (the love of my life since 1963) " Let's get matching tattoos to celebrate 35 years of wedded bliss." I'm sooooooooo expecting a big, fat, NO. Instead, I get "Let's do it. How about ....." Well, I now am caught off guard (hello, 35 years of this guy STILL continues to hold out on me).

In the end we decide (after a beer and 2 glasses of pinot grigio for me) to get a small heart on our ring fingers.

Apparently there is an etiqitte to tattoos. The tattoo is supposed to face out to the world (think FTW --sorry) but I wanted this to be personal so the heart faces my eyes. "I love you."

Seemed like a good idea at the time. Then a friend commented on FB that older fingers, arthritic ones that can't continue to wear the wedding ring this might be a good idea. Now if I had not posted a picture I would think this was good idea, BUT my fingers are not that old or arthritic so I'm too sure how to take this comment. My thought was when I need to be the church lady I will just put my wedding ring on and bam! conservative again.

All that really matters is that my biker babe (with a small heart tattoo on his left ring finger) is MY babe for then, for now, forever. Because really, what woman will want him now that I have his ring finger tattooed?

(sorry for this miss-spellings--I cannot get spell check to work and I don't remember how to spell correctly.)


May/June seem to be the months of celebration for marriage. It is true that in USA that births are at the peak in August/September (do the math), but it is unknown to me if May/June are the peak wedding months (and I'm unwilling to do the necessary research). So many of my friends are celebrating marriages of duration -- how can it be that I can easily list 20-25 peers with marriages of 25+ years. It is AMAZING.

My marriage began June 7, 1975, it was the 2nd weekend after college (I wish I could lead you to believe it was high school--every year counts!!!) graduation that Mark and I pledged our troth. (Look that one up).

Thirty-five years is a long time. I remember when I thought 25 YEARS was old. Lots has happened since that night to remember.

Three children, now a blessing to behold. All three have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ (all I ever really wanted). A re-location to mid-America, a tad of an adjustment for this rocker chick, but one of the best decisions we made.

Lots of life ... lessons, ballet, wrestling, Pioneer Girls/Boys, cello, piano, basketball, softball, etc.

Domestication--although I knew how to cook I needed to learn what family life was all about. Canned ravioli, green beans and white bread resulted in the praise, "You are a good cooker." Not by my standards.

Camping. Good Lord, camping. The last tent camping experience was 4th of July in the Rocky Mountains--it snowed that day. Yes, snow. I announced I was done with this pleasure in this lifetime. (Although I have camped since then --NM with LOTS of Corona--I reluctantly say I hope I never see a tent again--only because that usually means I will).

The good life.

What matters now? Tan feet. A good Pinot Noir. Sunrise--yes, rise. A shared life with the one you love even if the Pacific Ocean and half the continental USA are currently between you.

God is good and He continues to bless me, abundantly, beyond what I can imagine or even believe.