I think this post will be pretty picture-heavy.
So we drove to Truro to get inked by
Becky - 2nd time for me, 1st ever tattoo for ma! So we arrived in town, ate dinner at a cute bistro, checked out Margolian's and then it was tattoo time.
Mam watching while Becky cuts out her HUGE stencil
Waiting patiently... Can cut the tension with a knife!
Getting it done! No problem.
All done! Bob Dylan seeing eye... Took about 1.5 hours. What a trooper!!
All proud
Ok. There are photos missing because I didn't feel the need to expose the fact that the ankle tattoo (yes that's right she got TWO in her fist visit...) was actually pretty painful! Big difference when it's a bony spot. Ah well... Got 'er done anyway:
Pretty stylized lotus
Wuh-oh, it's my turn!! Getting my pansy. Symbol of freethought, and coincidentally was also my grandfather's favorite flower.
Next day back home... Sore but good! PS- wrist tattoos are PAINFUL, and getting tattoos touched up also stinks. Scar tissue toughening up, my a$$.
Now let's move on to the fact that we stayed in the Bates' motel for the night. There was a perfectly fine Best Western, a Holiday Inn and numerous other well-known chains of family-rate hotels and such, but noooooo... I was told to book a room at a place which shall remain nameless....
Don't get me wrong. The place was clean, the service was fine, and there is ultimately nothing wrong with this motel other than the fact that it is nearly Halloween, the place was virtually deserted because it was their last night open for the season, and it was full of wood panelling and tweed chairs and other 1950s type stuff. Actually come to think of it, maybe it was cool.
Whoa. This was the morning. A picture in the dark-and-storminess of last night would have illustrated my point more effectively.
Case in point- tweed-covered chair (that my computer refuses to rotate- possessed?)
Gideon was here
My mother is a stellar driver... Really.
Right. The oddest part of the stay wasn't really the digs. When I got to the motel, you have to go in an old-timey front office affair. Doing so, I encountered the receptionist, we'll call her Mrs. X.
Mrs. X. told me in a singsong voice that brunch was at 7:30am, the tidal bore could be viewed at 11:30pm, and handed me my room key- but not without explaining that, at 74, it was her last shift, ever. She was retiring. I was then informed about various and sundry aspects of her health and wellbeing, and then... a pause (and please excuse my paraphrasing at this point, it was after all getting late and I was tired from the trip and events of the day).
"You," Mrs. X. exclaims, "are a bright and beautiful person. You have a sunny disposition. You must teach school."
I explained that no, I did not, I am in fact a librarian, but good guess!
"Well.", she went on, "You are too beautiful to be shoved behind those awful dusty books all day. Anyone would be lucky to have HALF your looks. You should be a TRAVEL AGENT! You could be on TELEVISION!".
Surprised, I think I stammered "Oh...!" and started to back away slowly. Is this a gag? Am I on camera? Is someone going to jump out with a weapon??? No. This is for REAL. But it doesn't stop there.
Mrs. X. then asks me my age. Hesitant, I tell her I'm 28. Now she gets a knowing look on her face, and I fear for the worst. "Ha! Well... I shouldn't be telling you this, but...", Mrs. X. stops, glances around, and leans in to tell me her secret. "People change careers at 29, 39, and 49. You're no different. Someone is going to offer you something much better, and you promise me that you're going to take it!"
I'm not sure at this point whether I'm accepting career advice or having a tarot reading, at 11:00pm in the office of a 1950s motel by a severely arthritic receptionist on such a cold, windy, rainy night, but she did give me a CAA discount, some tickets for brunch and my receipt, and I was on my somewhat merry but mostly trepidacious way. I don't think I've fully come to terms with this little rendez-vous yet, but I'll be sure to give Mrs. X. a hollar when I take my shiny new job as a televised travel agent.
