I’ve discovered the things that stress my husband and I out are, as a general rule, not the same things that stress other people out. We once, for example, spent an entire evening calculating how much solar power we would lose per day/season/year if we moved back to our home town of Pittsburgh, PA (just a few hours north makes a HUGE difference, let me tell you!). The results of that evening spurned a month-long debate about what was more important to us: going off-grid & becoming self-sustaining, or having kiddos who lived close to their grandparents. Apparently that’s an easy answer for most people.
Moving, which we’ll be doing in a few short months (because our landlord decided he’s moving into our basement whether we leave or not. Fun.), prompts stressful questions like, “Will we be allowed to have chickens?” “If we tear up the front flower beds and replace them with edible landscaping, will the HOA fine us?” and “Do you think the neighbors will complain if we put the compost pile on the property line?”
Anyway, our lives have been rather stressful and full of change lately, and when that happens I take comfort in a few things that are totally permanent, and therefore comforting: my tattoos. (Weird, right?)
– A celtic butterfly I got in college, paid for with the first money I ever made as a writer. It’s on my lower back, but the pics looked awful, so you’ll just have to guess what it looks like. YOU try taking a picture of your own back. =)
– a teeny flower on my foot, which my cousin & my godmother also have on their bodies somewhere. We got these for my cousin’s bachelorette party:
– a moon with the name “Chibi” wrapped around it. My sister and I gave these to each other as birthday gifts one year (our nickname for each other is “Chibi,” after Chibi Moon, the character from the Sailor Moon anime). Yeah, we’re nerds. But we rock it, yo:
And my newest and favoritest inky pleasure, a wolf howling at the moon. I got this after my wedding because changing my name stressed me out & I wanted to maintain my link to my (maiden-family? what’s the proper wording there, eh?). Anyway, my dad’s nickname when he was growing up was “lone wolf,” so there you go. This one’s on my shoulder: