The List #22

A little over a decade ago, I made a list.

I never liked the idea of a bucket list. A list with an imminent ending in mind seemed morbid.

But I loved the idea of a real, written down list….. and for the solitary fact that it was actually out there, actually on paper (I started this on a piece of scrap paper)… I would have to start crossing things off.

Because, in my world, that’s how lists work.

You write them down.

You work hard to cross them off.

I want to start off by saying, some of the things on the list, I never in my wildest dreams thought I would cross off. They were there for some day. But somehow, some of those some days came earlier than I thought they would. There are some things on the list I thought would be easy to cross off, and there they still sit. And there are some things on the list I removed and replaced. And there are some empty numbers at the end of the list… for things I’ve yet to write down. Yet to think of.

This is what I have always called my ……….”Vitality Tally”

I work to live.

Not the opposite

I always have.

I always will.

I’m not a person of endless means. But I am a person of endless curiosity. Throughout my adult life, I have made myself take adventures. My family too. And those who are close to me have to go along for the ride as well. I have made myself give up some things in order to have these things. I have made myself step outside of any and all comfort zones at times.  I have literally risked my life here and there.

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#22 has been on the list since the very beginning.

“Get a Meaningful Tattoo”

I grew up in a conservative family. In a conservative world. Tattoos were looked at differently when I was growing up. Getting a job was difficult if you had them (and still are sometimes.) But the world has softened in some respects. And I’m thankful for that.

My original plan was to get it when I was 30. I was the mom of a toddler. Going in a million directions, and drawing a tattoo wasn’t high on my list back then. Several years later, when I was cleaning my house, I picked up a drawing my son had done shortly after he discovered Dinosaurs. He was 3. I framed it.  If you have been following for any amount of time, you’ll know that my life revolved around dinosaurs for years and years and years and YEARS.  He and I have literally traveled the country to see Dinosaurs. Dinosaurs will always be a thing to our family.

Fast forward a few years…..while on a trip to Miami this past December, I googled the best tattoo artist on the beach. (because when is a better time to get a tattoo than on a girls trip?) I had a copy of the dinosaur tucked in my wallet, it had been sitting there for months.  I contacted Ettore and the next day was sitting in his chair while it poured rain outside on ocean drive. It turned out his girlfriend is from Laramie.  45 miles from where I live. Fate. Kismet. Whatever you want to call it, that was where I was supposed to be. The bulky Italian was the one who was supposed to be putting my sons drawing there on my arm.  He had the greatest smile. And when we asked him about his first tattoo he ever did, 15 years prior, he told us a lovely story about a Brazilian woman with a perfect derriere he didn’t want to ruin…I couldn’t blame him. The wrath of a Brazilian woman could be deadly I imagine.  Needless to say, he was a good story teller, a fantastic attribute in my books. I had my son on the phone most of time I was having it done.  I took my own photos while sitting in the chair. My Dino Dude was the first to see the final product. Surreal. And more surreal to walk outside and see a Lamborghini parking next to me (his next passion in life…. is cars) I took a picture and sent it to him thinking to myself…… fate.

Do I love it? Yes. Will I get another. Probably. (Sorry mom and dad)

#22……check.