Hey, remember when I couldn’t find the USB cord for my camera to upload all my pictures, and that’s why I haven’t really shown y’all any pictures in the last 6 months? Well, I found it, which means we now have a LOT of catching up to do. Let’s start with pictures from the New Year’s Eve Ugly Sweater party I went to. Be prepared to be amazed. And also, know that the absolute most horrible sweater you’ll see is one I found at Goodwill in Asheville that morning. You’ll know it when you see it.

These guys apparently didn’t fully understand the purpose of an ugly sweater party, but the 80s track suits are still beyond entertaining. We nicknamed them DJ and Rerun Rogers.

Here we have Rerun and his wife Reba. I wish you could see her sweater better. It was quite bad. Many textures involved.

There it is. Man, that sweater was AWFUL. Oh, and he’s making that face because he’s doing an impression of a redneck girl his sister encountered in the bathroom of a bar once. The redneck girl was, according to his sister, at least 75 pounds overweight and wearing cotton (like sweatpants) shorts and a tank top. The sister was hanging out in the bathroom trying to get away from some skeezy dude who’d been hitting on her all night, and she struck up a conversation with this redneck girl and her friend. In the course of the conversation, the redneck girl says to Andy’s sister, “You know what? I just farted, and you didn’t even know it.” And then, as if that weren’t weird enough, the conversation continued until a few minutes later when she said, “You know what? I just farted again, and you didn’t even know it again.” In this photo, Andy is in the middle of saying, “You know what?” And he’s doing an excellent impersonation as far as I can tell.

I honestly couldn’t tell you what exactly was going on here. Just know that (a) I am not drunk, (b) Andy is not in an Olan Mills photo shoot, (c) Andy’s hand is not in an inappropriate place even though that’s what it looks like, and (d) there were a bunch of other people at this party. I just don’t have any really good pictures of them. Oh, and also, “Reba Rogers” referred to my sweater all night as “Gifts of Pleasure.”

Happy New Year!! Tomorrow, we’ll take a look back at Twiggy, the Water-skiing Squirrel!

I know it looks like I’m just not blogging as much lately, but what’s really happening is that I’m giving you extra time to prepare yourselves for the awesomeness that’s about to come your way. That’s right, friends. I’ve found the USB cord for my camera, so I’ve just uploaded LOTS and lots of amazing pictures. I can’t show you any of them right now because I’m at work, and all the pictures are on my computer at home. HOE-ever, get ready because over the next week or two, you’ll be seeing pictures from:

• New Year’s 2010
• My birthday
• Twiggy, the water-skiing squirrel
• Yesterday’s encounter with Zach Galifianakis

Oh yeah, did I mention I met Zach Galifianakis yesterday? And that he loves me? He said so himself. In my high school yearbook. Amazing.

Hopefully all of this will begin tomorrow, but then I can’t promise that I’ll have anything else to say to you until next week because this weekend is my family reunion. But hey, that means you’ll get to see family reunion pictures too! Lucky you!! You can’t wait, I know, but here at Onward Hoe!, we’re all about practicing patience, aren’t we? Yes we are.

Oh, but I do need to tell you about my 2nd day of 1/2 marathon training, which happened this morning. Lauren took the day off of work today to get some things done, so we went for a little walk/jog. Now, she’d done the same interval training we did last time a few times, so she bumped it up a notch. I had only done the one routine, but I wanted to try running with her anyway, so I too bumped it up a notch, and I was successful!

This time, we started with a brisk, 5-minute walk to warm up. Then we alternated running for 90 seconds and walking for two minutes. We did this six times, and then we cooled down for five minutes. The first run was the hardest this time. We really felt that extra 30 seconds, and I think we both needed to loosen up a little bit. The second run was a little easier, and the third was hard again, but THEN we figured out how to do it.

All through the running times, we just told ourselves (out loud) that we were as light as a feather, that it was the easiest thing we’d ever done, that we had bionic gazelle legs, that it didn’t even feel like we were doing anything at all, and that it was even less effort than sitting on the couch. And y’all. Miraculously, this worked. I for one knew we were lying to ourselves, but it totally worked. I think it had something to do with keeping your mind occupied by something other than the hatred you feel for running or how much longer you have to do it. And I found that talking through the running was actually encouraging because it proved to me that I could talk and run at once, which meant I was still ok. I wasn’t dying.

So I probably need to do this routine a few more times before bumping up to the next interval, but once again, it was not that bad, I survived, and I’m still mobile. Hooray!

It’s been a good day so far. I woke up after dreaming that I was at an art camp. I think I dreamed this because I read this last night before I went to bed. Anyhoe, I was at this art camp, and I needed supplies, and then I stumbled across a supply room that didn’t have anything I needed. So I think I gave up on art and went to the cafeteria. And I guess it was parents’ weekend at art camp or something because everybody’s families were there. And the brother of the guy in front of me was way cute and flirting with me. And as I was flirting back, my mom walked up and got in line with me. And then the cute guy asked me if I wanted to go eat candy in his truck with him, and I said, “Yes, yes I do, only I’m not so sure about the truck. But I’ll sit on a bench with you or something.”

Then I woke up and thought, I love it when cute guys find me desirable. Good dream.

Then I tried to scan some documents that prove my relationship to George Washington (yes THE George Washington) and my descent from a 12th century British king, but alas, I couldn’t get Whitney’s scanner to work, so I just read through the documents for a while, and that’s how I found out I’m related to G.W. and Ynir King of Gwentland.

Then I tweeted about it.

Then I wrote an article about two-letter Scrabble words that will probably not help me beat Whitney or my mom or the Beattys (or anyone else for that matter) at Scrabble. It’s the spatial aspect I find challenging, not the words. I can make some words. I just don’t know where to put them. You have to be good at words AND Tetris to dominate in Scrabble, and I am unfortunately only gifted in the former.

But the article is done.

So then I made some Punjab Choley and couscous for lunch and watched 30 Rock for a little while, which was, of course, wonderful. It was the one where Liz follows Floyd into the AA meeting where he spills his guts about his trust issues, and then she tells him all her weird stuff to make it up to him.

And she has some WEIRD stuff.

And while I was watching 30 Rock, a Census2010 worker came to the door to ask me some questions about the occupants of this house on April 1, which I answered not knowing that L-Josh had already mailed in their Census2010 form. So I don’t know why he had to come over here and interrupt my 30 Rock/catch me still in my jabambas at 2:30 in the p.m., but I’ve decided that if anyone catches me not yet dressed that late in the day again, I’m just going to open the door saying, “I’m a freelancer. I work from home. I have actually earned money today.”

Or I could just shower and get dressed in the morning.

Then I took a shower, and while I was in there, I had a revelation about the plot of my Neil Diamond musical, I Am…I Said. I can’t tell you about it yet because it’s still not fully formed, but I CAN say that things have been enormously simplified, and the main character and I now have a lot more in common, which is going to make it much easier to write.

And also, I’m clean.

This is not necessarily a story I want to write with my life, but seeing as I do not have that post finished yet, and this just came up the other day, I figured I’d tell y’all about it.

I was talking to Emily Furr Hogan about that summer (I think it was ’98) when we did the BeeGees puppet show for the kids at Vacation Bible School, and Patty Astronaut TP’d the sound booth (naughty Patty). I’m not sure why we were so insistent upon making the theme of VBS that year disco when it was clearly space. I guess we just wanted to have it all. And we did. As the kids were arriving in the morning, we had “Disco Inferno” playing, and when we were put in charge of telling the Bible lesson that day, we worked up a very elaborate puppet show that involved both of us working at least two puppets AND a boom box, which is quite a feat when you’ve only got two hands, and one of them is constantly stuck up in the air. But we did it, complete with “Stayin’ Alive” intro music when each new character arrived on the scene and a duet of “How Deep Is Your Love” with Jesus and Peter center stage and two other disciples singing back-up.

I don’t know if those kids still remember that, but we sure do, so it got us to thinking…we should write Vacation Bible School curriculum! I’m pretty sure all you need is a theme, songs with hand motions to go along with the theme, cheesy videos to go with the theme, Bible stories that can be vaguely related to the theme, and lots of themed…stuff – name tags and cardboard cut-outs and workbooks and stuff.

I think we can do it, and here are my ideas for themes:

• Roaring 20s – The VBS kids would learn to do the Charleston and steer clear of alcohol (like good little Baptists and prohibitionists). They’d also learn about freedom in Christ through the new-found freedom of women in the 20′s to vote, cut their hair short, wear shorter skirts and go to work. Then they’ll learn about how pride comes before a fall when we talk about the stock market crash of ’29. And that brings us to…
• The Great Depression – The kids would learn about the danger of worshiping idols and the certainty of God’s provision. The songs might be a little depressing, but I think the message would be powerful. All lesson materials would be printed on the backs of scraps of last year’s materials.
• Woodstock – Message of the week: Peace and love, kids. That’s what Jesus is all about. Every large group gathering would be held outside in the grass. There would be no videos or mandatory hand motions, just music and free dance time. In craft time, they’d just be encouraged to let the paintbrush do whatever it wants to do (which reminds me of another story I have to tell you later…don’t let me forget).
• DISCO!! – Clearly Emily and I already think this is a great idea. I mean BeeGees songs are already written in an ideal octave for little kid voices to sing them, and we’ve already demonstrated that “How Deep Is Your Love” is the perfect song to teach the reinstatement of Peter. We can talk about eternal life in heaven with “Stayin’ Alive” though we might need to Christianize most of the lyrics (not a problem, I’ve done it before). And we can learn to resist the devil with “I Will Survive.” The church is going to need a complete overhaul for this VBS week, though, with mirror balls, strobe lights and paneled floors that light up when you step on them. But oh my gosh how much fun would recreation time be? We’ll all do the Hustle and other groovy disco moves.
• Awesome 80s – Every day, the kids will make a different piece of their totally tubular 80s attire in craft time. One day it’s a slap bracelet, the next they’re bedazzling a denim jacket, then they’re making some crazy asymmetrical sunglasses (to wear at night), and the next thing you know, they’re all decked out and ready to go to the lake or the high school football game! The theme song for the week is called “Jesus Is Totally Radical.” It’s upbeat and peppy and gets stuck in your head whether you like it or not.

That’s all I’ve got so far. I just think the cowboy and space themes are way played out, and EFH and I are just the gals to bring some fresh new ideas to the table. If you’d like to join us, feel free to share your theme ideas in the comments!

To say that I’m “goal oriented” is a horrid, awful understatement. Without clearly defined, publicly documented goals and/or mortifying public consequences for not achieving said goals, I just sort of coast. The last time I really exercised was the Washington, D.C. Avon Walk. In 2008. I’m just not one of those people who likes to work out because of the health benefits or the endorphins or even the smaller dress size.

When Brookie and I were living together, we both wanted to lose weight. I lost 20 pounds, but only because if I didn’t, I would have to wear a bikini at our apartment complex’s pool. In front of boys. And disgustingly tiny 18-year-old girls. I need very strong incentives.

It’s not that I don’t know I need to work out, or that I want to watch my waistline become absorbed in a gelatinous blob of flesh. It’s just that those aren’t concrete enough reasons to get me to the gym. But lately, I’ve been feeling a little sluggish, and I know it’s time I got active again (even though I’d much rather sit on the couch watching an entire season of Bones).

So I guess Amaris just caught me on the right day (the day my brain fell out) when she tweeted:

considering starting training for a half marathon. who’s down???

This started a twittersation that went like this:

• Me: Can we start when it doesn’t feel like we live on the sun?
• Amaris: oh, definitely. deeeeeeeeefinitely.
• Me: Can skipping and spastic dancing be part of the training?
• Amaris: girl…YES.
• Me: Can we celebrate each attained goal with cookies?
• Amaris: YES!
• Me: Can we run it somewhere awesome and make it a vacation too?
• Amaris: like new york? orrrrrr hmmm…seattle?!! San Diego?? puerto rico? i vote the last one. we can, um, “practice” espanol.
• Amaris: so what all did I promise again? Colder temp, cookie incentives, skipping/spastic dancing…anythi OH! And Puerto Rico. That all?
• Me: That’ll do it!

Soooo…Amaris and I are going to go to New Orleans in February and run a half marathon. The way we decided on The Big Easy is that we figured a city called The Big Easy would make running 13.1 miles not as agonizing. No, that’s not how it happened.

First of all, I’ve never been there, so that was an immediate draw. In February, they’ll be getting all hyped up about Mardi Gras (even though it’s not until March 8), so that’ll be lots of fun. Plus, we can make rockin’ green, purple and black running outfits and wear sparkly gold afro wigs for the run! Aaaaand (this is the best part) it’s a Rock-n-Roll Marathon, which means that bands will be set up all along the way to play us on to the finish line. That beats the Avon Walk hands down (Remember how we had to walk up that hellishly long hill past the water treatment plant between miles 18 and 21? Yeah, not inspiring).

So there you have it. We’re still working on our training plan, but I think mine is going to involve some sensual fitness, I know we’re both looking forward to Zumba classes, and of course, we’ll have to jog (except we’ll pronounce it “yog”). If you want to join us, I’ll make you a sweet running skirt too, and you can help us with the choreography for every time we pass a band!

Orrrrrr, you could just come down with us, hang out in the French Quarter, and cheer us on as we pass. We’ll give you a stiff five and a shimmy!

My virtual friend Elaine just nominated me for a Versatile Blogger Award. Thanks, Elaine!! We’ve never met, but I’m totally joining her writing group when I get back to Raleigh as I’m 99.8% sure that my schedule will allow it. I’m not sure why she only nominated me for the award instead of just giving it to me. I mean, it’s not like there’s a committee somewhere voting on the matter. So what am I going to do? I’m going to AWARD Versatile Blogger Awards to some people. Yeah that’s right. I’m just handing them out. And I’m claiming mine while I’m at it, and yours too, Elaine. Because I think we’re all winners.

The way this thing works, see, is I have to tell you 7 things about myself that you don’t already know, and then I can give the award to up to 15 other bloggers (Technically I’m supposed to nominate them, but whatever. I AM the committee). Then I’ll notify them that they’ve won, and they can join the committee and give the award to 15 of their own peeps. Word. So here we go with yet another list of things about me…

1. I have never eaten steak.
2. I still know all the words to “Ice Ice Baby.”
3. I wash my pillow cases more often than my sheets because (a) clean pillow cases keep my face from breaking out as much, and (b) I’m lazy.
4. I have 3 shirts featuring pictures of my former/future boss, Dan. I’m wearing one right now.
5. I always wear undies. A bra is optional with some outfits.
6. To my knowledge, I do not appear in any YouTube videos.
7. All my cars have been Toyotas.

And now for the awarding. You know, guys, we used to just call this an activity, and we tagged other people to play along. Do we really have to “win” something now to have a little fun on the Worldwide Interweb Net? Ok fine, but if you accept this award, you have to link back to me and act REALLY excited about it all. Ok? Ok.

And the Versatile Blogger Award goes to…

• Heather of The Extra Ordinary
• Jamie, The Very Worst Missionary
• Erin, A Marketing Mama
• Elizabeth Esther
• Ben and Jacqueline

I chose these blogs because they are the best of the ones I’ve discovered the most recently. And also, even if they don’t participate in the game…uh, I mean very serious award giving…I think that they will at least not find it completely lame. And I can notify them all via twitter. Hooray!

Congratulations, y’all! I look forward to reading your random information!

I realized this morning that I’ve been neglecting my questions lately. I’m trying to find a balance between answering those and just telling you fun stories about what’s happening. For the most part, there aren’t a lot of fun stories about what’s happening because my days are spent sitting on my couch, writing articles, and then driving half an hour to teach. And sometimes after I drive the 30 minutes to teach, there are no students. So…yeah. The questions are really more interesting than my life. All of that is about to change, but I’m not ready to make a formal announcement just yet, so hang in there, internet, and let’s talk about time travel.

Presuming you had a time machine what’s the stupidest and most dangerous thing you would probably do with it, despite having answered this question and having labeled it as both stupid and dangerous?

Well, I think time travel in general is definitely dangerous and probably stupid. I mean, Marty McFly’s hand disappeared when his mom was slow dancing/struggling with Biff, and his dad was too wussy to step in. But that’s what you risk when you meddle in your parents’ high school lives. My parents didn’t go to high school together, so I wouldn’t have to worry about that, but if we’ve learned anything from Back to the Future, it’s that you don’t screw around with the space-time continuum. Doing so is both stupid and dangerous, and you could lose a hand in the middle of your guitar solo.

However, there are a few things I’d like to see happening:

• my parents’ wedding – There is no video footage available that I know of. I assume it’s because video cameras were only for TV/film studios in the early 70s.
• me as a baby – There are not a lot of pictures of me as a baby that I know of, and I don’t really remember anything before I started school, and even then, it’s all pretty hazy until about 5th grade. I’m sure my mom could tell us what I was like, but it would be way cuter to see tiny me in action. Unless I was a jerk. Was I a jerk?
• my ancestors coming to the U.S. – My sister is making a massive family tree for our reunion this year, and I’m sure she’d love an eye-witness account of this. Plus, y’all know how much I love to travel, but to be ON THE BOAT with them, knowing what the country is going to become generations down the line, and seeing what it was like back then…man, that would be awesome.
• Beethoven playing his own stuff

All of those things, I just want to witness. I don’t necessarily have to be a participant in history for those. But here are some things I would want to do:

• meet Jane Austen
• hang out with the Beatles before they were famous, and teach them all the Monkees’ songs before the Monkees even form a band (just to be a mischievous punk, not because I have anything against the Monkees)
• follow Jesus, like literally, in person, walking in the dirt (and the rocks, and the…)
• convince Amy Grant that “Baby, Baby” is a bad idea
• convince John Mayer not to record half of his songs
• stop Shutter Island from being filmed, and convince Leo to do a movie that requires more shirtlessness
• convince myself to go vegetarian in college
• introduce myself to Mediterranean food much sooner (hummus, falafel, stuffed grape leaves, etc.)
• smuggle slaves to free states
• smuggle Jews to safety during WWII
• invent leg warmers before anyone else
• invent velcro

Like I said, I think time travel in general would be pretty stupid and dangerous, so I don’t know which of these things is the worst. I’ll let y’all be the judge as to exactly which thing is the stupidest/most dangerous and/or which is the likeliest to cause me to lose appendages. What would YOU do with a time machine?

This is one of those classic questions, almost on par with “If you were an animal, which one would you be, and why?” or “If money were no object, what would you do with your life?” It’s one of those questions everyone is asked at some point, but I think some people think about it more than others. Here it is:

If you could do over one thing that you have done or said in the past, what would it be and why?

My initial, somewhat sarcastic response to this is, “What? Just ONE thing?” But I think that I think that’s what I’m supposed to say. Really and truly, I aim to live with no regrets, and part of that means living from here on out so that I won’t have any regrets, but the other part is not regretting anything I’ve done in the past.

Everything I’ve said and done and everything that’s been said and done to me have served in part to shape me into who I am now. And let’s be honest, I like who I am. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t put it up on the internet every day. So even though there are painful parts of my past, and even though I’ve done stupid things, without them all, I wouldn’t have learned valuable lessons that I can carry with me from this point forward.

But I’ll be honest. There have been a few boys I wish I’d kissed, a lot of money I wish I’d saved, and several unfortunate haircuts. So here are a few tips on how to live a life without regrets:

• When considering a hair style, think about how it’ll look on your head for real, and not just how you’d like to imagine it looking in your imagination where you have that actor/actress/hair model’s hair and not your own.
• When considering a hair style, think about what you’ll think when you look at pictures of it in 15 years. Will it just be a sign of the times, or will you think, “WHO ALLOWED THIS TO HAPPEN?????”
• If you’re going to spend more than $200, do your research, and get someone else to help you.
• Be honest.
• Be straightforward.
• Don’t kiss all the boys (or girls) you feel like kissing. Just because you feel like doing something, that doesn’t necessarily make it a good idea.
• Eat your veggies.
• Take risks.
• Have regular adventures.
• Have spontaneous adventures.
• Ask questions.
• Do what you love, no matter the cost.
• Be about something bigger than just your life.
• Hold a baby every chance you get.
• Hug the people you love. Full frontal hugs.
• Sing in the car.
• Write down good memories so you don’t forget them.
• Do unexpected things.
• Surround yourself with people who make you laugh.
• Savor every bite.
• View every experience as an educational one.

And here’s the open question:

What are your tips for living without regret?

Y’all, these questions are getting more and more bizarre. Not this one, but I was just looking at the most recent ones, and well, it’s about to get real interesting. Next week. For now, we’ve got to deal with this:

When are mullets going to come back into style? And be honest, are you counting down the days to that moment?

Dude, where have you been? The mullet has been back in style for at least five years, six in Europe. There are really two major differences I can see between mullet popularity now and the mullet popularity of olde.

1. Many of today’s hipster trends started out as redneck and/or 80s trends, and the hipsters are now cycling them back through with a strong sense of irony. Hipsters love irony. Half of them don’t really understand what it means, but they love it regardless. Anyway, the mullet is one of those trends that was popular for a while in the 80s, and then the rednecks and big hair bands carried into the 90s, but now the only people rockin’ it are the rednecks who just can’t seem to give it up…and the hipsters.
2. Curly mullets are OUT. Forever. And thank goodness because that is not a good look for anyone. It somehow worked for the glam bands of the 80s and early 90s, but once grunge came in, the curly mullet went out, I believe, never to return. Amen. I’ve seen a wavy hipster mullet here and there, but that is a very different animal. I’m talking about curl. A.C. Slater, Ogilvie home perm curl.

On my particularly funky hipster days, I will catch a vision of myself with some crazy hair style, and I’ll be all about it, and I might even try to get it cut that way. The last time that happened, I essentially wanted a mullet, but really what I was after was versatility. I wanted “bangs” I could sweep down from the top when I wanted bangs, but that I could push aside on days I didn’t want hair in my face – humid days.

It didn’t really work. I just sort of had a mullet. I did the bangs once, and they received rave reviews, but I could never get them to work again because my hair just does whatever it feels like doing with little to no regard for my wishes.

What I have learned from this is that I can do layers, and I can change up the color, but that is about it. Anything else either does not work at all or only works for about 2 days before the weather changes, or it gets too long to keep doing it, or I sleep on it wrong, or I don’t gel it just right, or the stage of the moon shifts, or American Idol gets a new judge. And then it’s pointless to even try.

So no, to be honest, I am not counting down the days until curly mullets come back into style because (a) I don’t believe it’s going to happen, and (b) dang. If the curly mullet ever is en vogue again, I’ll probably be too old to be among the trend-setting unless it’s only in style for women of a certain age, in which case, I still won’t get one.

Case closed.

Y’all seriously, I have an UNHEALTHY NEED to combine words. I literally can’t stop myself. Like in the title there, do you see what I did? I have 2 questions today, both about tattoos, and I just couldn’t help it. It’s a sickness. But here we go with the questions.

What’s the tattoo, and where is it?

I think I mentioned in the answer to this question that I’d gotten a tattoo. Now, there was very little about that post that was serious, so I don’t know why this reader thought that the part about me getting a tattoo was true, but…keen eye, reader. Fine work indeed.

Let me just start by saying that I thought about getting a tattoo for YEARS before I actually did it. I was never opposed to them in any way; I just couldn’t think of something I wanted on my body FOREVER. Then it occurred to me that I didn’t have to get a design or a picture – I could get words, and y’all know how I love words. So then the question was, “What should it say?”

The first thing that came to mind was a song we used to sing in high school chorus (How many Madrigal Singers on the blog page???). The lyrics of this song came from the Song of Solomon 8:6, which King James translates as, “Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death.” Based on that, I wanted a name of God “sealed” on my arm, but what name? I thought about all the names used for God in the Old Testament – Elohim (God Almighty), Adonai (Lord), Jehova-Jireh (The Lord will provide), Jehova-Shammah (The Lord who is present), El-Roi (The strong one who sees), El-Olam (The everlasting God) – but they were all just a little too specific for me. I wanted a word that would encompass God’s very nature. And then I remembered 1 John 4: 8 and 16. “God is love.”

At this point, there were so many Scriptures that this one word reminded me of that an entirely different thing came to mind. In Deuteronomy, God tells the Israelites, “Fix these words of mine in your hearts and minds; tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads.” I liked the idea of having God’s words attached to me so I can see them whenever I use my hands. Walking around with a box attached to my wrist all the time, however, was just not practical. Walking around with a box attached to my forehead was even less practical, and clearly I was not going to get a face tattoo, so we were back to the arm. And this reinforced my original idea based on the Song of Solomon.

So. Love on my arm. That part was set…sort of. To make a long story short, a week or two before I actually got it, I found Galatians 5:13, which says, among other things, “serve one another in love,” and it was then that I decided to get serve on my arm too.

So I think technically I have two tattoos. On the top of my right wrist, facing me, it says “agape,” which is love in Greek. It is there, facing in that direction, to remind me that I am loved unconditionally, selflessly, sacrificially, as the word in Greek implies. On the other side (the palm-side) of my wrist, it says “douleuo,” which means serve. Literally, it means “to make oneself a slave.” I liked the specific meaning of this one as well because I feel like it’s the proper response to “agape.” It’s an intentional act of sacrifice to serve someone else. This one faces out, toward my hand, in the direction service should go.

They’re both in Greek because I liked the specific meanings of the words in Greek, and because Galatians 5:13 was originally written in Greek. Plus, I think the Greek letters are really pretty. And I got them both in brown for two reasons. (1) I wanted them to look more like henna than real tattoo – organic and natural. And (2) as they fade, I wanted them to look more like birthmarks than old tattoos – like love and service are just a part of me.

So that answers question #1. Now for #2:

If one’s husband were, hypothetically, opposed to tattoos, but one wanted to get one, where would be the best location to ensure the husband didn’t have to see it in, um, intimate moments?

Dude, you are asking the wrong girl. I know nothing of, um, intimate moments, but I would imagine he’d have to see it at some point no matter what. I mean, unless you got it in some bizarre place where no one would ever see it (like in your crack or on the bottom of your foot), and then what’s the point? Plus, I just don’t think you should get one if your husband is opposed to them. I know it’s your body, but what with you and your husband being “one” and all, it’s sort of his body too. I think it’s just more respectful of him and your relationship for you to not get a tattoo if he’s that opposed to it.

I mean let’s say I was married, and my husband wanted to grow a mullet, and then shave Mt. Rushmore in one side of his skull and a swastika in the other. So essentially, now he has a mohawk down the center with long, nappy hair down his back, our founding fathers on the right, and a Nazi symbol on the left. On the one hand, hey, it’s his head, not mine. But on the other hand, I would kill him. Especially if we’d talked about it, and I’d said, “No. Absolutely not.”

It’s like when my friend Emily’s husband wanted to name their first kid (boy or girl) Beef Supreme Gibson. And he was serious. It caused a big fight because Emily felt that Nick wasn’t taking their kid seriously, and Nick felt that Emily wasn’t respecting his opinion. Ok, so it’s not really like that at all, but that’s a true story. They named her Magnolia, by the way.

So to recap: Don’t get a tattoo if your husband is so opposed to them that you’d want to hide it from him during times when you’re supposed to be the closest two human beings can possibly be. Consider it your act of unselfish love and service to him.