Yesterday, I sucked it up and did something that I’ve wanted to do since I was fifteen but never had the guts to do. I almost punked out…but I didn’t, and now I have this to show for it:
I apologize for the close-up view of my ear, but at least it’s not waxy;). I got it done at Top Notch Tattoo in Indian Trail by the same girl who did my two tattoos. She did a really good job, although I’m not going to lie…when she told me that I’d hear “a little crunch,” I almost launched myself out of the chair and into the parking lot. But, I stuck it out…it was a “pop” more than a “crunch” really. She said it didn’t bleed that bad and it didn’t really hurt until I got a particularly vigorous hug this morning at church…it’s quite tender now.
It’s funny how, the older I get, the more I want to actually follow through with things like this. I always thought I’d be too chicken to get a tattoo and now I have two. I wore a fake earring at the top of my ear for years, and I just now had the guts to actually get it pierced. I don’t know what’s happening to me. Maybe it’s the identity crisis rearing its ugly head again. It wouldn’t surprise me. Any time life gets thrown into chaos, I have a particularly hard time, and the last four months with the changes at work and the stint at the other church campus have taken their toll on me in a big way. I hate that whole “drifting” feeling.
We went to the Carolina Raptor Center yesterday since it was Falconry Day. We got to spend a lot of time talking to some of the staff and volunteers and they are interested in my donating some handknits to sell:). Joey and I both have been interested in volunteering, too. If you’re local and haven’t been yet, it’s an amazing experience.
Shelli peed ON ME while we were napping this afternoon. We’re thinking that something must be wrong. I don’t think that she would do that otherwise. Joey’s going to take her to the vet tomorrow. I feel pretty violated. And it’s hard to keep from taking it personally when you get peed on. I’m rooting for a bladder infection, because I don’t know what we’re going to do if it’s psychological. She can’t sleep with us if she’s going to use me as her personal litterbox. Bleh.