I wish my entire family could wear wrist communicators. That way, when I’m relaxing, I could just buzz one of the kids’ wrists and tell them to bring my laptop. Or move the laundry to the drier. Or whatever. Currently I just have to hope one of them wanders by so I don’t have to get up.
Of course I’d have to wear my communicator on my right hand, because my left wrist is currently low on real estate.
My friend Erin asked me last night about how I came to this decision: getting a tattoo, the location of it, the design, the whole deal. So this is the post where I answer all the burning questions (not for Erin, because I already told her all this last night, but for the rest of you, in case you are burning with desire to know, or possibly just killing time before work ends on a friday afternoon).
The answer is that I see it as a permanent piece of jewelry. I actually don’t wear a lot of jewelry, but one day I was looking online and saw a woman with a tattoo on her wrist (oh, OK, I was celebrity stalking, as per usual) and it just struck me as very pretty.
The design I chose means eternal love, which I have been lucky enough to find. (Watch John leave me now, and then I’ll have to say it stands for the holy trinity. Which I could easily do, if I just carve a circle around it. My friend Kelly says I should go ahead and start carving the circle, based on my tendency to become very passionate about giving clothing to the needy).
And no, it didn’t hurt when I got it.