Not quite sure where the “root-a-toot-toot” came from, but it popped into my head in terms of the title. After the first draft of this post, I looked it up. Besides being the title of a book, it means “something noisy, riotous, or lively, specifically in the early style of jazz music”.
Interesting. And so not what this post is about. Which, by the by, is in no way related to writing/editing, blogging, or the pretty private eyes from the Triple Threat Investigation Agency. It’s a this-is-what’s-happening-in-my-life one.
. . . I’ve opted to get a tatt on my arm.
It was supposed to be a small one on my lower inner arm. But the artist explained, if it’s small, it can’t be as detailed as I’d like it to be. What I was hoping would be around 1½” is now going to be around 3-4”. An in-your-face tatt.
For quite some time (years), I’ve wanted to get one of a honu (Hawaiian turtle) and hibiscus flowers—nothing terribly clever or unique or spectacular, by any means, but … pleasantly pretty. It was to serve as a tribute to my love of Hawaii and my writing (the “gals” at the agency), but it’s become more than that.
It’s a tribute to my (ever so) slowly emergence/development—as my own person. This woman is finally embracing the life of an individual, not an extension of someone else, not being molded (controlled) by another. Finally, I am ambling down that winding pathway, toward that light at the end of the tunnel, to stand alone, tall and tough, (though I will undoubtedly wobble now and again).
While this really has nothing to do with tatts, it’s a fun little [uplifting] root-a-toot-toot vid.
It’s going to take five hours (perhaps you’ll hear me wailing over the waves). But, once said and done—and pain and tears subsided—I’ll wear it like the badge of courage and strength it will be.
The Writer's Grab-Bag 