Ow ow ow.
Key to my heart. <3
This felt better than I expected…almost soothing.
Finished! Celtic love knot.
I may be addicted to tiny tattoos.
After my first tattoo last year, I knew I wanted more, and this year’s meetup was as good a time as any. After much deliberation and experimentation, I ended up with two designs, and I couldn’t choose between them.
I knew I wanted a skeleton key of some kind. I love old keys. I also wanted something small behind my ear, but the key idea didn’t fit there.
I also wanted to acknowledge that Tim got his first tattoo this year — a Celtic knot on his wedding ring finger — and finding a way to incorporate that connection into the tattoo, whether directly or indirectly, was important to me.
After much iteration, I decided on a heart-shaped key on my right wrist to balance the tattoo on my left, symbolizing the love part of “amor fati”, and the Celtic knot behind my left ear.
I’m so happy with the new work, and now I’m having all sorts of new ideas for more tattoos. I didn’t believe Tammie when she said tattooing is addictive, but she may be on to something…
You know that thing where you wake up on a Saturday and your bed isn’t full of small children and stuffed animals? And your husband is there, and he’s all warm and smells nice and it makes you think, hmm, maybe…and so you kiss him, and you’re thinking, yeah, this is nice…so cozy…
…and suddenly, a flurry of thundering footsteps, a stampede of one. A young child, sensing a disturbance in the force, bursts through the door and flies into the bed, wedging herself directly between the two of you, crushing a few of your more sensitive body parts in the process.
Happy (belated) anniversary to us!
(And yay for bedroom door locks.)
I was going through old photographs after Dad passed with the intention of putting together a photo book, and came across some of my really old stuff.
It reminded me that Tim and I started dating 15 years ago. He was obviously my favorite subject, with a few dramatic selfies (which were not called selfies back then) thrown in for good measure. Man, we were young.
Happy 15 years, love. Let’s make the most of all the years yet to come.
While in Portland, I celebrated seven years of wifehood to this guy:
A+++, would marry again
We’re about as fancy with our anniversary as we were about our actual wedding, which is to say, not very. But the weekend wasn’t all about WordCamp; we had a delicious dinner at Petite Jacqueline and I indulged in a 60-minute massage at Akari as an anniversary present.
And yes, there was cake.
More importantly, I got to spend five days with my best friend, something I’m lucky enough to do every day, but this time without life’s usual interruptions. That was a gift in and of itself.
We’ve been married for as many years as we were together before we made it official, and we’ve had our share of ups and downs, but I have to thank him for his unwavering faith in our ability to grow together (rather than apart), and I have to thank my seventeen-year-old self for having the wherewithal to pick a good one the first time around. 🙂
Happy seven years, love.
I am tolerating you.
Last fall, Ellie brought her very first school pictures home:
As far as I’m concerned, it’s perfect. I have so many photos of the kids being their goofy selves, adding one posed photo to the mix is a nice change of pace. Just look at that face! Only five, and she’s already perfected her politely disinterested smile. Adorable.
What I didn’t realize is that our school does pictures twice per year–once in the fall, and again in the spring. I’m not sure why they do this…maybe it was easier than having a make-up picture day for all the kids who missed the first one. Whatever.
I didn’t pay much attention to the whens and wheres of the second picture day, which became painfully obvious when she brought this home:
The real me. Take it or leave it.
I LOVE IT.
The pink shirt under the red and yellow dress (note the untied bow) with the olive green bracelet and necklace. What you can’t see from my crappy iPhone photo-of-a-photo is the royal purple pants. All on a pretty bright green spring background. The only thing we’re missing is the wild, tangled hair, and I’m sure that’s because the photographer was nice enough to comb it for her.
And the smile! So confident, bright, and vibrant. When I see this picture, all I can think is, “There’s my girl!”
Sure, the first one is cute in a “My mom made me wear this sweater and brush my hair” kinda way, but the second picture is the true Ellie, and the one I want to remember in ten years–my messy, lovely little lady who unapologetically rocks a style all her own.