So, here's my story!

Why I Hate One of My Tattoos

I was twenty-two years old. I had just broken up with the love of my life due to some super seriously shitty behavior on both of our parts, my grandmother had recently died and I had a check sitting on my desk for $1200. I cashed the check and called up the guy I was using as a rebound and said, "hey let's go hit the tattoo parlor. I'm itching to do really stupid things to myself to numb all this pain."

He picked me up and right as we pulled into the parking lot, his car died. So I go to the parlor and he huffed it to the parts store just around the corner. I go in, pick out what I wanted and sat down. The artist asked if I wanted color and I said yes but wasn't sure which ones and he said he'd wing it. The result was a seven color piece that took four and a half hours.

Just as he is readying the gun and prepping all of the ink containers, my phone goes off. It's the love of my life trying to get in touch with me. I didn't have any prepaid minutes left, so I let it go to voice mail. Everything was ready, I laid down on the table and my artist went to town.

I stared at the floor as Guns n Roses blasted out of the speakers and lost myself in my new, completely different feelings of pain. I relished as he scratched the needle across my skin and I briefly wondered if I was just fucking everything up. The sound of the gun and the vibrations lulled me into a more relaxed state; I became so relaxed that I started to drift off to sleep.

About two hours later, he tells me he is finished and that we can do touch ups in the next couple of weeks if we need to. I walked over to the bar next door and had a vodka on the rocks and then went home to get some rest as my body was starting to realize what I had just put it through.

I woke up the next morning with a sinking feeling in my stomach and the sheet stuck to my back. It was done, but I couldn't help feeling like this tattoo would forever be a reminder of that period of my life. I was right in thinking this.

The love of my life and I are back together and happier than ever before, but he won't caress that part of my back and he won't walk behind me if I'm wearing a tank top. It's just as much of a reminder for him as it is for me that we both made a huge, huge mistake. If I could get it removed, I would do it faster than I could say my own name. less

The day my apartment burned down

I was hanging out with my boyfriend at the time, and my roommate was at work. Out of nowhere I got a call from her boyfriend telling me that he thought our apartment was on fire. I kept asking if he was serious and he just kept saying, I think so. I didn't have my car at the time because it had died a few weeks before, and my boyfriend's young daughter was sleeping at the time, so I was stuck. I begged him to let me use his car, and he understood and tossed me the keys. On my way, I got a voice mail on my phone. I checked it and it was my roommate's boyfriend. It sounded like he butt dialed me because I think he was talking to someone else when he asked, "should I call 9-1-1?"

I started freaking out and raced to the apartment building. When I got there, people were completely surrounding the building, as well as firetrucks. I kept trying to call my roommate at work and finally got a hold of her on her cell phone while she was on her way to the fire. I ran up to a fireman and told him that my pets were inside. I had a tiny puppy and a kitten and my roommate had 2 cats and a small puppy as well. The fireman said that they hadn't pulled them out yet and I started to freak out. Eventually, they pulled out animals out, one by one and laid them on the side of the house. They all died of smoke inhalation. First came my roommate's 2 cat's, Mia and Ava, then my little puppy, Frank. They never brought the other two out. I just kept telling them there were more in there and they kept telling me they couldn't find them. It was awful.

They finally got the fire under control and made sure the structure was sound so that we could go in and grab some things we would need for the night. We went into the building and my roommate immediately found my kitten, Koopa, and her puppy, Dexter, in her bedroom.

It took us about a week to clean the apartment up, and most of our stuff was totally ruined from smoke damage. It was a traumatic experience, but it definitely made me realize how unimportant material goods really were, as I had to sift through and decide what was worth saving. It will be 4 years this November and it haunts me to this day. After I got a new puppy a few years later, I would wake up in the middle of the night and make sure he was breathing before I could go back to sleep. less

The day my apartment burned down

I was hanging out with my boyfriend at the time, and my roommate was at work. Out of nowhere I got a call from her boyfriend telling me that he thought our apartment was on fire. I kept asking if he was serious and he just kept saying, I think so. I didn't have my car at the time because it had died a few weeks before, and my boyfriend's young daughter was sleeping at the time, so I was stuck. I begged him to let me use his car, and he understood and tossed me the keys. On my way, I got a voice mail on my phone. I checked it and it was my roommate's boyfriend. It sounded like he butt dialed me because I think he was talking to someone else when he asked, "should I call 9-1-1?"

I started freaking out and raced to the apartment building. When I got there, people were completely surrounding the building, as well as firetrucks. I kept trying to call my roommate at work and finally got a hold of her on her cell phone while she was on her way to the fire. I ran up to a fireman and told him that my pets were inside. I had a tiny puppy and a kitten and my roommate had 2 cats and a small puppy as well. The fireman said that they hadn't pulled them out yet and I started to freak out. Eventually, they pulled out animals out, one by one and laid them on the side of the house. They all died of smoke inhalation. First came my roommate's 2 cat's, Mia and Ava, then my little puppy, Frank. They never brought the other two out. I just kept telling them there were more in there and they kept telling me they couldn't find them. It was awful.

They finally got the fire under control and made sure the structure was sound so that we could go in and grab some things we would need for the night. We went into the building and my roommate immediately found my kitten, Koopa, and her puppy, Dexter, in her bedroom.

It took us about a week to clean the apartment up, and most of our stuff was totally ruined from smoke damage. It was a traumatic experience, but it definitely made me realize how unimportant material goods really were, as I had to sift through and decide what was worth saving. It will be 4 years this November and it haunts me to this day. After I got a new puppy a few years later, I would wake up in the middle of the night and make sure he was breathing before I could go back to sleep. less

The meeting of the Golden Eagles.

Back a few years ago, a buddy and I were sitting around the camp fire during a day of rain. We were in the mountains of Colorado and the weather was to cold to sit in a blind and hunt. Even though we had a tarp to keep us dry and we enjoy each others company, we just wanted to do something besides sit there. We had a small break in the rain and the sun shone through the clouds, I was slightly surprised as I seen it was shining down on a mountain peak not to far away. It was one of the moments of beauty that only visiting the mountains can one enjoy, like a "picture perfect" postcard only 1000 times better.

I suddenly had urge to climb that mountain for some reason. I knew we could get to the top and back before dark and my buddy was game. We tossed a lunch into out packs, tossed on a rain jacket and headed out.

We had a good time joking around and talking about anything but life back home. You see, this was not really a hunting trip (Although we do that too of course) but rather our vacation from the big city-our time to unwind from 60 hour work weeks and such.

It was not long, at least to us, and the peak was in site. As we came to the top we turned around and were greeted by all that mother nature has to offer with the Purple Mountains Majesty that Colorado has to offer. "Rivers of Gold" (Aspens in the fall) lined the distant mountain sides and fall foliage was abundant everywhere we looked. We sat there in awe and quietly ate our lunch.

My buddy mentioned that we had never seen the other side of this mountain and suggested we check out the other side. I snapped a few pictures with my cheapy camera and we gathered our packs. It was only a little way to the top, maybe fifteen feet or so. Here we were greeted by the same beauty and I took a few more pictures. It was during my last picture that my buddy tapped me on my ass, I jumped pretty good as that is just not something we do. I turned to look at him and was about to ask him WTF when I noticed he was as white as a sheet. I followed his gaze and about pissed my pants while my heart stopped at the scene before me. There, not ten feet away, was two of the biggest Golden Eagles I have ever seen. To make matters worse, they had a young one with them in the nest.

THEY. WERE. NOT. HAPPY. at seeing us so close to the nest. I turned to look at my buddy only to find he was not there, all I see was a trail of dust in the air where he had ran. Honestly, I could not move. I have always loved eagles, Gold and Bald, and to see one in nature (not captivity) was one of the most humbling and scarry things I have ever seen to this day.

My body said "get the fuck out of there stupid" while my brain said "You will never get a chance to get a picture like this again". I guess I listened to both as I quickly brought the camera up, snapped a pic and ran like hell, all at once.

So funny looking back, but I passed my buddy about half way back to camp and did not stop or look back. I was pretty sure that the papa eagle was going to feed me to his young and quite frankly, I think he could have done it too. He was one big eagle.

Looking back I would not have changed anything, except maybe taking an extra second for the picture. When the film was developed the picture only had a blurry image of the eagles, just enough to know what they were but certainly nothing compared to the picture in my head.

It's been ten long years since that day, both my buddy and me remember it like it was yesterday. We both have kids and they asked for this story before bed for years. My daughter at age 13 still asks me to tell it. less

The Ring

I remember the first time I saw that beautiful ring Sigel bought for me. He was on his knee asking me to marry him and my parents were protesting in their usual passive aggressive way by pretending nothing was going on in the other room. I knew they didn't approve I was just hurt by their reasoning. They wanted me to be a "good girl" but also to party, drink and be a girl gone wild college student. All I wanted was to wear this amazing ring and be this man's wife!
The ring was beautiful and delicate and looked like it belonged on my hand. One large diamond surrounded by three smaller ones on each side. It matched the diamond earrings he had bought me for Christmas that previous year.
I loved that ring. I washed it carefully using an old toothbrush that my grandmother had given me for that purpose, my mother unwilling even to look at the ring.
For almost a year I wore that ring night and day but the pressure of fighting my parents and the natural desire to be with the man I loved took it's toll and one day I made a decision that would change everything. I broke off our engagement and gave that ring back to him. He cried, he begged, he even threw it back at me but I persisted. Gently I placed it on the coffee table and left his apartment in tears feeling like my heart would never beat again.
A few days later he paid my father back for some bullshit phone bill my parents claimed he owed and we tried to get on with life. One day my mother decided she needed to feel better about herself and began to brag about how I was now free to be a college student since she had FINALLY managed to get me to spoil it between Sigel and myself. I tried to summon all the arguments I had used to justify why he wasn't the guy for me but one by one she shot them down, laughing that she had expertly set me to believe the silliness. What did it matter anyway? I was free to go to bars and have fun with new boyfriends. Forget that I STILL had a 10:30 curfew and wasn't allowed to go to parties with my friends...

I can't remember ever being so angry with my mother. I had knifed the man I loved and she had orchestrated the whole thing so that I could do something I wasn't even wanting to do, to be someone I couldn't have respected. I made a decision that day and I have never looked back.

When we made up, Sigel and I, he made it clear that he had pawned my beautiful ring to pay the bill my parents were so damn worried about. We tried to get it back but it was long gone. I tried to be happy that at least we were together and told myself that I didn't need anything more than the simple gold ring I wore now. I was successful in convincing myself that I didn't need pretty jewelry...and it was a good thing that I was so successful because for 20 years Sigel never bought me anything...not even costume jewelry. I watched my mother show off her lovely pretties my father bought her but I was content with more practical gifts. We didn't have any money to waste of frivolous things.

One day, after we had some positive cash flow my mother was showing Sigel some jewelry in a magazine and saying that I liked this and this...he looked up at her and said, "I don't buy her jewelry because she doesn't deserve it. The last time I bought her something she threw it back at me and I won't make that mistake again." My father actually cried that day because he knew he and my mom were responsible for the huge hurt that caused Sigel to believe I didn't deserve pretty things but he patiently and with some profound anger in his voice, explained that you don't buy jewelry for your love because he/she deserves it but because you love them and want them to have it. To Sigel's everlasting credit he had never really thought about why he never bought me jewelry and it was a shock, to him, that he was so emotional. I was devastated, it confirmed my worst fear- that I wasn't worthy of pretty things, that somehow I was less than other women. Fatally flawed...

By this time we had Arch in our lives and he heard what had happened, surprisingly enough, from my own mother who never missed an opportunity to bad mouth Sigel. He was upset, worried and profoundly angry at Sigel. 'Course no one was angrier at Sigel than Sigel was at himself.
He made plans that year to buy me a ring to replace the one that he had pawned, even though he was scared to death that I was leaving him for Arch and would be giving it back once again. Self fulfilling prophecy is a bitch!
It took him two years to finally find and buy the ring that he felt was worthy of the love and commitment I had given him for over 20 years. He wanted a showy, flashy, huge thing but the salesperson was a friend of mine and knew me better. She steered him to ask my girls to help him pick out the ring and they chose a simple three diamonds set in platinum on a gold band. One diamond for the past, one for the present, and one for the future on a golden ring of eternity. Yes, my oldest daughter is quite the romantic!
Then he bought the necklace that he had been planning on buying when we were still dating, a heart outlined in diamonds to complete the set he had been working on way back then. So I had earrings, necklace and ring- the earrings from him, the necklace from the girls and the ring to end the pain of believing I was not worthy of nice things.
He presented ring and necklace to me in Arch's home as an apology to him as well. That was the day that we, Arch and I, truly believed that Sigel had accepted our invitation to join us without fear.
One ring broke our hearts and one ring mended every hurt we had ever done to each other. It's such a simple ring to mean so much. less

I'm imagining that if a pair of young mountain lions wandered into your living room where you were watching tv with your young one, that you would have been anything but pleased! The poor eagles must have been petrified.
Still you went there armed only with a camera and I sort of love you for that. What a story to tell....do you think the daddy eagle tells his grand kids about the time he had to chase two humans away from his nest? less