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Tattoo Time

I came home to find a note on the counter from my friend Becky, "I thought it would be fun if you and I got matching tattoos!" (Although she used one t in the middle not two- it's not everyday either of us spells tattoo.) It said we should choose different colors is all. It was a few days after I learned the recall petitions have been turned in, which means there will be a recall election (if the signatures are all valid) in August for me, Tom, and Tresham. My response to the false charges on the petitions would not be a tattoo I would want my grandchildren to read. 

Also, I really don't like needles.

But Becky is my friend, and she has just returned from the third funeral of one of her children. I read the note again. What the heck, as Becky would say, if she wants me to get a tattoo with her, I will.

The phone rang. "Did you get my note?" Becky said. "You weren't home and Pearl wouldn't tell me where you were."

"Yes," I said. " I was weed whacking the lumberyard." It helped to do hard, satisfying labor. I felt much better afterward.

"Well, what do you think?" Becky said.

"What will it say?"

"Be kind, be brave, be thankful!"

"Okay."

"When shall I come over and do it? You pick your color, green or red, and I'll use the other."

"What are you talking about?"

"Didn't you see the arrow? Open the drawer."

Turns out, the tattoo part was a joke. Sort of. Becky had Melissa Ganey make us wall decals of our favorite saying.  There was an arrow on the note pointing to the drawer Becky had tucked the rolled up strips of words in.  

The next day, Becky arrived with a ruler and pencil and we put mine up on the pantry. We laughed teetering on the wobbly chairs, holding the old ruler and a dull pencil and counting the inches so it would be centered -- measuring wrong twice--  and rubbing the letters off the backing with credit cards. What a good way to spend a hot, windy afternoon in June.

(One more funny thing: It's been 24 hours and Chip hasn't noticed...)

 

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