Muddled Instincts and Tattoos

Friend (still working on a nickname he is good with as he has had the blog and the Tumblr on his radar from the beginning) came by on his way out of town and stayed over Thursday night. We had a more clear discussion on the topic of Euphemistic Pretzels* and I realized I've been having issues with my own instincts.

Issues so bad I couldn't even find a title for this piece when I went to post it.

You know the sensation when you're heading towards an intersection and the light turns yellow... you almost always just "know" whether or not you can make the light or if you need to hit the brakes. You know that if you hesitate or misjudge things, you are going to cause a car wreck. That's the sensation I was getting about taking the next step with him, so I kissed him goodnight and he slept on the couch.

I've had that sensation about the job stuff, and generally just not feeling as trusting of my own gut lately. It's tough for me with the way I've always lived my life. I go with what feels right, no matter how crazy it may seem. It's never failed to do any less than get me in exactly the place I needed to be in... But lately I find myself waffling on things that I would have always just made a snap decision on. I don't over-think things like that. That's the Mr.'s department. Usually.
 
The three of us had a relaxing morning at the house and then went out for pedicures. It was our friend’s first pedicure, and the Mr.’s second ever. While sitting in the vibrating chairs I asked The Mr. his thoughts on lunch to which he replied, “I wasn’t thinking of anything at all.” That was the best part of the pedicure time. Well, that and the hot stone massage. Wow.
 
From there we went out for a disappointing lunch. We've had the worst restaurant mojo when our friend comes to town. We are still trying to find local places and avoid chains, but our endeavors have been less-than successful.

Our friend left after a more 'green light' kiss and The Mr. and I set out to do something that the Pre-Mr. Man he once was said he would NEVER do. The Mr. decided he was ready for his fist tattoo. We had looked online at a couple shops- checked out their pictures, Yelp and Google reviews, and had two in mind. No amount of research can tell you what the feel of a tattoo shop will be like and for me, that’s been the deciding factor. We found a cool, touristy area not far from home where the first shop was. They, however, had no availability for over a week and the vibe there wasn't great. We’d read that they were over-priced anyway, so we just left. From there we took a detour to exchange a pair of shorts and calm a little bout of the Crazies that The Mr. was having. I figured the moment had passed and he said we were going for ice cream. The next thing I knew, we were pulling up in front of tattoo shop number two.

The shop had designs on every inch of wall space in addition to the usual poster racks of drawings. One of the owners greeted us warmly and got the paperwork for The Mr. while I looked over the racks for inspiration for a piece I need covered up. While waiting for the artist to set up, the owner’s wife/co-owner struck up a conversation with me, complimented my shoes and let her Shitzu out of the office to come love on me for a bit. The artist that did The Mr.’s work was a cute little girl with multi-colored hair and a septum piercing, covered in beautifully colored ink. She didn’t look a day over 22 but the website had said she’d had something like 7 years experience. The Mr. had been concerned about the pain, but hardly winced at the needle. When she was done, the artist cleaned up the ink splatter on his arm along with the tattoo itself, smiled and said, “You’re one of us now.”

My Kiddo got her first tattoo late last year and hid it from us for several months. Just now, the Mr. took a look at the unscented lotion I retrieved from her room and gave me a look. He said, “She is slick!” She had asked him to take her to the drug store and she insisted over and over that she needed UNSCENTED lotion. She knew that he would have no idea why it mattered so much being a tattoo virgin. She truly is her mother’s child
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*Euphemistic pretzels: our code-word for naked play time with a third person involved. Yes, there’s a story there and I’ll post it soon.