Yo Ho, Yo Whoa!

Yesterday, I gave several boat tours to groups of Girl Scouts. These scouts ranged in age, from Daisy scouts to Cadettes (roughly 5 years old to 14 years old). The sunny, relatively cool weather made for a lovely day on the bayou.

These scouts were fortunate; we saw several gators along the trek. I know, I know. Real. Live. Alligators.  Live. In the wild. Chomp. It is a fun game I have to play, the "Stay Calm, Don't Freak Out the Visitors" game. I am not from here. Locals often just shrug off the presence of an alligator. Visitors tend to get very excited. I tend to react more like a visitor when I spot wildlife. "Look! An alligator!" I may have decided to snap a picture with my phone because I couldn't overcome my own giddiness.

One girl asked if I had ever gotten close to an alligator. I told her no, that I wanted to keep my relationship with the alligators professional and didn't feel the need to get close to the reptiles. Only the leaders laughed at that one.

On the way back down Bayou Tortue, we were floating along a particularly peaceful stretch of water. The sun filtered through the overhanging branches. The breeze rippled the murky water. Then I heard it. It startled me at first and then I didn't know what to think of the song. Where was it coming from? Am I dreaming?

"Yo Ho, Yo Ho, a pirate's life for me!"

Is that...? Did I...? Oh, no.

My phone silencer unsilenced itself as I slipped it back into my pocket after snapping the shot of the alligator. Dead men may tell no tales, but darnit if phones do.

The Happy Accident

Earlier this week, I went to an all-day workshop designed to promote creativity in technology (and technology in creativity). I found the day thought-provoking and refreshing.

One of the more memorable speakers was an artist and comic book writer. He made a reference to Bob Ross (of "The Joy of Painting" fame) that particularly struck a cord with me. Bob Ross's "happy accidents" would happen whenever a a smudge happened or a drop of paint landed where he had not intended. That glob of paint did not deter Bob! He just called it a "happy accident" and integrated it into his painting. A grey blob became a rock that protruded from his original stream. A forested area became denser, more mysterious as he worked a navy blue spill into the scene.

The comic book artist provided Bob Ross's "happy accident" as an example in creativity. Creating is a process. The artist may have an idea of the direction he or she wants to go, but many factors contribute to the final outcome. Rigidity and creativity don't usually get along. Turns out, creativity is not the only process in life. Life is a process.

I am finding that whole "happy accident" idea a good way to perceive life. I definitely feel like I have had many splotches of paint thrown onto my canvas that I had not intended (I am not saying I don't think these life splotches weren't necessarily by design... they just aren't my original design). And I have been the type of person who plans and plans and plans and then rocks out according to my set plan. Now I have the opportunity to take these extra colors and either work them into the painting (my life) or cry about them and think that my painting is ruined.

Hmm. Choices, choices.

A Snapdragon Life

I have been enjoying my apartment-sized garden. It has been small enough for me to handle, but varied enough for me to learn from. I have already dealt with bugs, rot, unhealthy leaves, and near-death experiences. Well, near-dead-plant experiences.  I am proud of the one pot of nearly-dead snapdragons I saved from the "bargain" shelf at Lowes. The yellow, curling leaves and wilting flowers begged for a little bit of nurturing that the store personnel had no time for. I took that dying plant as a challenge. I now have two pots (I split the plant up) of beautiful, full, pink snapdragons that greet me as I walk up the stairs of my apartment.

Reviving those flowers took some time, actually. It took some time and some research, in fact. Heaven knows I don't naturally have a green thumb (and I most naturally feel at home in a library) so I read about remedies from a series of garden books. I had to try different things to encourage new growth while removing the dead parts. I needed to provide nutrients via fertilizers and change the watering schedule (I overwatered at first, nearly drowning the plants). I experimented with a variety of sunlight levels, moving the pots to different spots at different times of the day. I am pretty excited to see my non-green-thumb, uber-library-nerd self accomplish this feat.

If I were to create an analogy for my life (which I do here... a lot), I consider myself similar to that of the snapdragon. I was not my vibrant, thriving self for a while upon my arrival to the Pelican State. And I am still not fully recovered like my snapdragons. But I know I am in the process of figuring out what works for me, figuring out what makes me blossom to my fullest. I have to adjust my schedule, my routine, my expectations, my habits, my goals, and my ideas in order to get me moving in that direction. I can't stay in the sun as long as the snapdragons for fear of a sunburned-induced death, but I can adjust where I put my energies.

Here is one of my experiments. I have mentioned writing with a purpose (and received quality ideas about it). I have thought lots about writing with a purpose. I decided to go ahead and give it a try with a more focused blog. I know, I know. But we thought you were trying to lessen your digital presence?? I am adjusting my presence. I am channeling what I have learned and how I use that in my day-to-day experiences into another blog. Maybe this will work, maybe it won't. It cain't hurt none to give it a try.

I am Runner 5

If you ever need some motivation for a workout, I strongly encourage a quality dose of zombies. I watched the entire season of "The Walking Dead" on my day off before turning on my Zombies, Run! game/running app. Nothing will make your feet hit the pavement faster than the idea that you are being chased by the undead. Zombies, Run! actually plays out a story through your headphones; you run to gather supplies to build up resources back at the base.  "Hurry!" a British voice pipes in over your playlist, "just a little further, they are on your tail- you can make this last sprint!"

I have found workout motivation before after watching a marathon of the Jurassic Park films. I just imagine that I have got myself caught in the tall grass (even after being warned not to go into the tall grass) and that the velociraptors can run so much faster than I. Regardless of dinosaurs or zombies, I remember Rule # 1 (Cardio), and go.

Is it a coincidence that my rare nightmares tend to involve me being chased? I'd say not.

It's a Wonderful Life

When asked "what's your favorite movie," I can never decide if I should answer with That Thing You Do!, Garden State, or It's a Wonderful Life. I love all three of them and can quote each of them pretty extensively. Are you allowed to have three favorites? I do. But if I am only allowed to have one favorite at a time, today's favorite movie is It's a Wonderful Life.

I have been doing a lot of thinking. I always do a lot of thinking, but recently I have been doing more thinking than normal. There is this crazy thing that has been happening to me recently (well, in the past few months): nothing in my life is working the way I had planned it. And that can be so very frustrating. But it has also provoked some serious soul-searching. And while that might sound melodramatic, I am melodramatic. It works for me.

What is it all about? Why are we here on this planet? I used to think it was exploring, discovering, experiencing; those things were why I was put here! This globe is filled with adventure, and I will find it! So I set out on a new adventure, one called adulthood. I know our society defines adulthood somewhere between the voting age and drinking age, but I was still in school then. Within the past year, I graduated, I secured myself a big-girl job, I moved to a new state, I settled into an apartment (sans-roommates for the first time in my life), and I started forward on this trek called adulthood. I was ready! Or so I thought.

As different types of frustrations ebbed and flowed over the next several months, I had to seriously ask myself, "Wait, what is it all about, again? Why am I here? I wanted to be here, right?" I generally did that in the form of phone calls to family members (my kid brother has probably spent more time talking to me in the past six months than he has in his whole life... and we grew up in the same house together). The best three weeks over the last six months happened in Tennessee and Texas- trips to visit family and friends and people I consider near and dear to me. Oh, I am learning a lot here in Louisiana and "discovering" new things all the time. But my explorations, discoveries, and experiences don't mean much without sharing them with others. And by "others," I mean "loved ones."

So I put myself in George Bailey's shoes (back to It's a Wonderful Life, again. I really am going somewhere with this, I promise). He went through a hard time and did some of his own soul searching. In a scene at Martini's bar, George gasps"God, dear Father in heaven, I am not a praying man, but if you are up there and you can hear me, show me the way. I'm at the end of my rope, show me the way." And, if you aren't familiar with the film, God sends Clarence to answer George's prayer. Indeed, Clarence shows George the value of his life as a way to save George from ending his life. And that value was found in making a difference to his family and friends. Call me a sap, but I can't not cry at the end scene when the whole community rallies to support George Bailey in his time of need. Everybody loves George!

One of the things I relate to the most in the film, even as a kid, was George's fascination with the bigger world. He was going to "shake the dust of this crummy town" off his shoes and see the world! But then life happened. When it comes right down to it, my three favorite films don't seem to have much in common. A musically-infused comedy, a coming-of-age-indie flick, and a Frank Capra classic? But in each of the films, the main character is seeking something away from home. They don't know what they are seeking, but are seeking, nonetheless. Each character finds what they are seeking while at home (well, technically, Skitch in That Thing You Do! finds what he is looking for away from home, but he finds what he is searching for in the things that he originally had at home... you have to watch the movie if you haven't).

One thing I have realized in my short time in Louisiana has been that life is about impacting your world. And traditionally, one's world was geographically restricted. Technology has made it so we don't stay in one spot, we can leave our families and homeplaces, all while staying "connected." Our world is now so big! There is a lot of pressure to make a difference in the big world! You are supposed to grow up, move out, be successful [usually, that is defined financially], and make a difference. And for my generation, you do these things independently, even independent from family. But doing these things requires that we sacrifice something for the "American Dream." This New Yorker article looks a little at those sacrifices:

Meanwhile, the culture’s data pool is filled with evidence of virtuous togetherness. “The Brady Bunch.” The March on Washington. The Yankees, in 2009. Alone, we’re told, is where you end up when these enterprises go south.

And yet the reputation of modern solitude is puzzling, because the traits enabling a solitary life—financial stability, spiritual autonomy, the wherewithal to buy more dishwashing detergent when the box runs out—are those our culture prizes.

The American Dream! "Financial stability, spiritual autonomy, the wherewithal to buy more dishwashing detergent when the box runs out[!]" It sounds a little preposterous, and yet, I have known this as truth. I have even attempted to console my singleness with the fact that I don't have to do anybody's laundry than my own. Ha. Is that really the American Dream? Do you suppose Thomas Jefferson sent explorers Lewis and Clark out with the thoughts "one day this great nation will be filled with individuals who will have the individual right to choose whether or not they wash their clothes with Tide or All or whether they wash their clothes at all!"

If this post seems long and slightly meandering, it is because it is. Back to my man, George Bailey. In the end, he realizes the impact he made by just living his day-to-day for those he loved. He realizes that he has made a huge difference by existing. And he realizes how much his family (both family-by-blood and family-by-choice) means to him. Sorry if I rambled slightly here. I am still a'churning all these thoughts in my head. I have done a lot of "sharing" in the past few weeks via phone calls and letters and every single person I have talked to has helped shaped some of my perceptions (in good ways!). It is almost as if during my moments of strife, when I asked God to show me the way, He sent Clarence in the form of family and friends as a way to say "hang in there, kiddo... it really is a wonderful life and I'm not done with you, yet."  

I've deleted myself

I did it. I deleted myself from the Facebook. I have my reasons. The biggest hurdle I had to mentally overcome in doing so was the fact that I am supposed to be on the social media team at work, helping create an online presence. I resisted removing myself from Facebook, as I told myself "I need to keep up and follow trends and see what is going on." Crazy thing is: no, I don't. I read enough articles, journals, and publications outside of the Facebook to follow trends. And I won't be completely removed once the park establishes a presence. So really, what's the point in keeping it?

It is a little weird. I didn't think I spent that much time on the book of Faces, but obviously enough of my time was wasted on there. In the past 24 hours, I have had several moments of habit rear its familiar head. "Let's see what's going on... oh, right. I deleted myself." Maybe I did spend more time on the Facebook than I had realized.

I am also find it freeing.

One of the reasons I deleted myself had to do with the number of life-changing events I would find out via Facebook status. Engagements, weddings, babies-to-be, and birth announcements. That is the sort of thing I would like to learn about in person! Or on the phone! Or even through a text message! Okay, maybe not a text message... But a card or letter will do! This is an experiment. Maybe with this act I have just become more isolated as people from my generation forget how to communicate in methods other than wall posts and "likes." The world has gotten along this far without it; I think I will manage. I certainly hope I will, anyways. Whenever this comes up, somebody in the conversation always pipes up "well, that is the only way I can communicate with some of my friends." Are they really your friends, then? How in the world can we possibly keep up with 190 friends?* Maybe we weren't meant for this?

Another reason I deleted myself had to do with the creepster-vibes I gave myself as I scrolled through the news feed. If I had "befriended" somebody who was merely an acquaintance, their life events, photos, etc., would show up in my feed. Yes, I know there are settings to change all that, but that requires way too much of my own time and it really wasn't worth it to me. My [awesomest] brother-in-law [ever] said what I felt about browsing other folks' photos. "I feel a little stalker-y." I agree. What happened to living life without digitally sharing it with the world? Can't I go and experience and do and not upload a picture or check in?

Now, I understand the irony here. "Um, aren't you digitally sharing your life here on this blog?" Well, why, yes. Yes, I am. And I am still sorting out how involved I want to be digitally (I did not delete my Twitter account and still plan to use that... although it serves more as a news feed and less as a social bombardment). And maybe one day I will undelete myself (you know, when I want to announce an engagement or something). I like to read about the impact of the media. I am interested to see where this is all going (and why we are in this handbasket... just kidding). But for now, I will go ahead and live my life without capturing it and organizing it on a digitally-formatted presence.


*Crazy sidenote: I googled "Average number of Facebook friends" and before I could finish typing "number," Google provided me the rest of the phrase. It is a highly searched thing, evidently? I wonder why...

Chomp!

I think once upon a time, I had intentions of mixing my love of design with my love of history and enter into the world of exhibit design. I ended up going the way of the park ranger by way of a degree in public history (starting in design... fashion design, actually- I wanted to get into historical costuming). Exhibit design is a particularly specialized field. Writing, designing, and producing quality permanent exhibits takes a lot of effort and talent. Understanding audience is important (museums notoriously have three types of visitors: streakers, strollers, and students). Understanding what captures interest is also important. And understanding how people receieve and process information is vital. I no longer go to museums to learn about what is on display; I visit to see how it is on display. I think about the visitor experience and the word choice in the interpretive text. I consider the layout of space and the sizing of images.

I have had the opportunity to help design some temporary exhibits at the Acadian Cultural Center. I whipped up a small display on cotton in Acadian cuture. Most recently, I put up a display about alligators. We have a three-foot alligator in our lobby that has always attracted attention (usually from boys). I decided to make a little panel to go along with the alligator:



With limited resources (some paper from our education supplies, laminated sheets, and velcro), I researched and wrote up some information about gators. This was the first time I developed an exhibit about something that was not history. It is an exhibit on... nature! I did my best to make it interesting, to include information of the sheer size of these animals. An adult male can grow up to eighteen feet. At the suggestion o a coworker, I made that something easy to imagine:



Eighteen feet of duct tape stetched across our lobby conveys the size of these animals to our visitors as they walk into the center. At eighteen feet long, its jaw length would be nearly eighteen inches, and the gator itself would weigh about half a ton. One thousand pounds! And that reptile has the ability to launch itself at a rate of 30 miles per hour to catch its prey! After talking to a visitor about these remarkabke animals, he asked me, "well, have you ever gone gator hunting?" Um, no. What part of "big, scary lizard" did this exhibit not portray?

I wrote the exhibit with kids in mind, making it interactive. I have questions like "how many steps does it take for you to walk from the alligator's tale to its nose?" as a way to get kids engaged. I have found more adults interacting with the new exhibit than kids! Developing this temporary exhibit has been a learning experience for me. I am enjoying getting feedback and thinking ahead to the next time I develop a temporary exhibit. I also never want to meet an alligator in the wild. They may stay in picture books and on National Geographic Explorer shows as far as I am concerned.

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Dedicated to the Mysterious Rhinestone Cowboy

When I push “publish” on the bottom of the blog screen, I know that my words will launch into the interwebs, accessible to pretty much anyone. With that thought in mind, I tend to keep my writings ambiguous. My façade currently exists as a blue background with Georgia font. It isn’t that I am not being genuine; I just don’t want to be completely open, either.

The other day I received a text message from a friend of mine, asking “who are we again?” He is my support partner, a fellow recent-graduate who shared many of the same feelings pre- and post- graduation. He was the first person I talked to in my post-graduate school “funk” who actually expressed honesty in his feeling of the same way. “I know, it’s weird, right?” we said to one another. We agreed to champion each other on, finding solidarity in our seemingly the-odd-one-out feelings. Asking ourselves “who are we?” is our way to cheer each other on.

After my original conversation with that friend, I conversed or caught glimpses of other friends my age and I began to realize I am not the only one who is in a sort-of-life-funk. But I never wanted to be entirely honest with any frustrations or “downs” that I might be experiencing for fear that people might worry about me. Nor did I want to seem ungrateful for the opportunities I have been given. And I don’t like appearing any less than perfect (I know, I know- it is a pride thing and I am working on it).

Here’s the thing: I think my façade has hindered more than helped. I have a dear friend, a fellow graduate of my program, who is currently working as a server, sleeping on a couch, applying for jobs in her field. Talented, funny, capable, and willing, but jobs are limited in our field. She admitted at this point in her life, she’d be happy with any job that provided her with a steady schedule (as her server’s schedule jumps week to week, day to day). I have another friend who received her degree and teaching certificate, ready and excited to teach elementary-level children. A combination of “The Economy” and the plight education systems are under, she can’t get a job in her field. She lives at home, working as a customer service representative at a call center. At least she has benefits. Another good friend of mine recently lost his job. Smart, capable, motivated, and ready to make his positive contribution to the world, yet, nobody will hire him. These are just a sampling of people I know and care about. Give us a chance! Let us shine!

When I post my very positive statuses (stati?) on the Facebook or I tweet an inspirational quote, I am being honest but I am not always being transparent. I don’t want people to know I am going through a tough spot! What will the Bridge Club think!? I have a job that I like doing, right? Right. I found that job early in my life, right? Right. I am making a difference in my own way, right? Right. I no longer have massive stress in the form of a thesis or graduation, right? Right. I have a roof over my head and food in my mouth and live in an amazing country, right? Right. Why reveal anything about my life that feels less than perfect, right? Hmm.

Sometimes my frustrations are rooted in how what my life looks like now and how that is not really how I ever pictured it. Single, working the equivalent of “entry-level” in my field, in debt (but hey! I have two very expensive pieces of paper to show for it), and sometimes wondering if after everything I have been through, is this really where I am meant to be right now? Sometimes, my frustrations come from the fact that I have very few people I consider “close” and even those close individuals I keep at a slight distance; who am I supposed to share my day-to-day struggles or triumphs with and not sound like a whiner? Sometimes, my frustrations rest in the fact that I found a particularly edifying job that doesn’t pay so well and I am not at liberty to buy pretty things whenever I want (and won’t be for a long time). The worst kind of frustration that happens is derived from the ease that I can compare my life to others; I literally know five people who are engaged to be married and eight more ladies who are pregnant. Eight. I am not making that up (and am never going to be able to keep up with my crochet plans at that rate of reproduction!!). And I don’t even know how many people I know who have already found their soulmate/best friend/love of their life who just don’t have kids, yet. All I have to do is scroll through any of the social media sites that I am a member of and I can show you all sorts of people who have their lives on track. Or, at least, appear to have their lives on track. Maybe they struggle with the very same things, but like myself do not want to appear less than perfect.

So it is with my transparency that I hope to reveal weakness as a way of growing stronger. And I don’t just mean for me to grow stronger. When I cheer on my friends, I do it from the bottom of my heart and I know they do the very same for me. I am not complaining, I am not whining, and I know it can always be worse. But I am human! Therefore, I have struggles. We have struggles. But if we keep our struggles to ourselves, how can anybody help us? How are we going to be able to support one another if we continue with our facades?

And while I dedicate this song (okay, fine, this post… but “song” sounded better) to my friend, the Mysterious Rhinestone Cowboy, I write it with the intention of others finding out that they are not alone. That there ain’ nothin’ wrong with going through a tough spot and questioning “why” and “who are we?” That we have good days and bad days and so-so days and days that are all that and a Moon Pie; all of those days combined is what they call “living.” And that though maybe having ambitions and desiring more in life is what what causes us to get tangled up and trip when we are trying to figure out who we are, it is that same desire and ambition that keeps us pushing ahead.

“Sure I am of this, that you only have to endure to conquer.” -Winston Churchill

Smock it to me

Today was an incredibly long but incredibly productive day. I ran three miles before work, worked (finishing a temporary exhibit on alligators), then had a volunteer meeting at the local American Red Cross chapter. This week, I will be presenting at a local library about Emergecy Preparedness- an important topic alladatime, but especially on the brink of hurricane season.

The volunteer coordinator had not realized that I did not have any official American Red Cross gear, except for a utility vest. Citing how those can get warm when working indoors, she said she would get me a shirt. Ooo! I am moving up in the world! I had been wearing a plain red or white shirt whenever I volunteered, but now I will be official with an official shirt! I was very excited when she came back and handed me my very own... smock. "It looks like we are out of shirts, but you can use this for now."

I tried not to let the disappointment show on my face. Maybe one day I will graduate from smock to shirt! And maybe if I work really hard, I might get an official polo! But for now, I guess I will have to be content with my smock.

After my meeting, I decided the best way to end my incredibly long day would be to watch an incredibly long movie: "How the West was Won." I can't go wrong with the likes of Jimmy Stewart, Debbie Reynolds, Henry Fonda, and John Wayne! Happy Friday to me!

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ahh! nature!

There is a common misconception that park rangers love nature. I think sometimes visitors honestly assume I can go out, much in the same manner as Disney's Snow White, sing to the critters of the forest while a bluebird lands on the edge of my hat and we all gleefully enjoy each other's company. "Oh, it's a jolly-olly day with Ranger! The Ranger makes the day so nice!"

Here's the truth of the matter: I am a nature-appreciating park ranger, not a bark-eating, tree-hugging, John Muir-style park ranger. In fact, when I was in seventh grade, I told my mom I wanted to be a park ranger when I grew up and she replied "you know, you have to go outside to be a park ranger." I had to seriously reconsider career alternatives at that point.

I am not as bad as I used to be (I saw far too many National Geographic Explorer shows and saw what really went on in the wild... I prefered staying inside while reading a book). But I still have to put on a front when I encounter nature. And the Spring season has provided many opportunities for me to appreciate the wildlife in south Louisiana. Especially the lizards. So many lizards.

One lizard I encountered today probably worked as a stunt double for one of the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park. It has some red coloring and a frilly thing on its neck and wanted to eat me. Okay, the last part was made up. But he was on the flag pole an I needed to take them down. I thought to myself "wicked!" but I did not mean that in an East Coast-expression type of way. He finally scurried away (probably off to go gather more of his lizard tribe to come back and overtake me). As I was taking down the flag, I had not realized there was another lizard far above my head on the flagpole. I had not realized until the flagpole rope knocked the creature off the flagpole down. I had not realized that wiggling green thing falling towards me was a lizard until it hit my shirt, bounced off of me, and landed in the bushes. You could say I flipped a wig. And you'd be accurate. I grabbed the flags and bolted back inside. I can still feel the little rubbery guys flopping on me when he hit me. There will be a lizard army waiting for me tomorrow, I just know it.

The amazing thing: Earlier in the day I watched a lizard eat a dragonfly through the center's window. I even caught some film of it. But I was INSIDE. And the little monster was OUTSIDE. And that is where nature should stay.

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balancing act

I have grand plans for my life and not enough minutes in the day. By the end of my work days I usually say "oh, I didn't get around to [insert assorted tasks here]." My weekend to-do lists only see a portion actually crossed off. I have one life! I will live it to its fullest.

I sensed this urgency to go and do and experience and be by the time I was in middle and high school. Ten years ago this summer, I traveled to Africa on a mission trip. Some might ask "why then?" and I just respond "why not?" Indeed, the trip proved memorable and shaped me in many ways. People still like to ask "why?" and I generally respond "why not?" It suits me.

My biggest challenges, both personally and professionally, rest in patience. Practicing patience has never been a strength of mine. But I believe everything happens according to a plan bigger than my own. Why do I fight that? Why not? It is what I do, who I am. I find that the right tension between self-created stress from a desire to "do" and the resistance from all-things-beyond-my-control fuel my drive. It is when either of those things gets out of balance that I go particularly crazy. If I stress too much over things I can't control or if I attempt to be apathetic about these things, I work myself into a small Elizabeth Explosion. "Well, everything in moderation! Including stress!" I am, and have been, an all-or-nothing kind of gal for a long time. And it has (maybe 80% of the time) worked for me. Moderation, along with patience, has always been something difficult for me to practice. When some say "I want to get in shape, maybe start jogging," I say "I want to try and run a half marathon." I am who I am.

So I am trying to take my understanding of myself and make it work for me. I feel like I am still trying to adjust to Louisiana both at work and at home. I have Ben Franklin's quote "you may delay, but time will not" written on my calendar at work. And I will keep looking to the future, trying to make the moments I have been given count for something during my short stay on this planet. Why? Well, why not?

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don't worry

We all know I have expressed the desire of getting "inked" in the past. I have even had artwork drawn up. In uniform, as long as the tattoos are not visible, I am allowed to have them. So, for my birthday, I decided "why, not?" and got a tasteful flower on my ankle. It is small, pink, and has vines reaching upward. I am surprised that it didn't hurt as bad as I had expected. And in case you were wondering, Dad...

April Fool's!
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