Rest that purdy lil head of yours

Ah, I don't know what it is about Thursdays, but I always seem to blog on Thursdays. I'm sitting here enjoying my rest day with a nice hot cup of coffee and some acoustic Seether in my ears. Life truly cannot be better. I decided yesterday to do some extra in my workout so that I could take an active rest day today. Perhaps my reasoning behind that decision is a little bit selfish, but we all need an active rest day or two per week. Just as important as it is to work muscle, it's important to rest. Yesterday I had two more flowers filled in on my half sleeve tattoo and I hate working out the day after I get tattooed. It always feels like my skin is going to split in half, yes, I guess I'm a baby. Yeah, I know tattoos are not for everyone. I love them, the color, the meaning, and just how I can express myself through art directly on my body instead of merely hanging on a wall in my house. It took me a little over a year to decide on the design for this half sleeve and last night I really got to see this thing start to come together with the completion of flowers 6 & 7. I only have the large chrysanthemum on the top left, the honey bee, and then background. It looks like it will be complete right around my 30th birthday.  It is made up of 8 medium-large flowers plus one honey bee on my upper right arm.

You can see the start of it on the right. I have since had 4 more flowers colored in. Flowers are as such: Chrysanthemum (for my dad's birth month) will be colored yellow/orange (for my mom's birthstone color), two asters colored in pinks for my daughter's birth month and favorite color, two poppies colored in blues for my son's birth month and favorite color, 3 hawthorne flowers in reds/oranges for my husbands birth month and because I think he looks best in the color red. Last, but certainly not least is my honey bee. That bee is the most special part of this to me, it's for my grandma Beatrice (photo of her and me on the left from a couple months before she passed). Everyone called her Bea, so I felt that was the perfect small addition to sit atop one of the asters because she had never met my daughter (or my son for that matter). Grandma and I were very close. I lived next door to her growing up and I went to her house every single day. Looking back, Grandma Bea was indeed the very best friend I ever had growing up. She was always there for me at every turn. She was such a fabulous old woman. She worked hard, cared for many, and truly had a heart of gold. My son would have loved her, I just know it. They both share a love of animals, oh yes, he would have gotten along with her perfectly. Every morning as I waited for the school bus, Grandma would come out and hand me a 5 stick pack of Doublemint or Juicy Fruit gum.

Tomorrow I am having a new washing machine delivered. Not overly excited about this. It's going to be a lot of work getting that sucker installed. Why you wonder? Because my washer and dryer sit underneath the countertop in my kitchen next to my stove. This morning I took out all of the screws holding the countertop down and just need Don to help me move it. It's too large/cumbersome for just me to mess with without fear of breaking it. Plus... we could not find a washing maching the same height as our old one. Ok, so we found one, but it was the same brand and my husband was adament about not buying the same thing again for fear of the next one going kaput. So... we did find one we liked, but it's 2" taller... so that means we will be raising the countertop up. I guess it's not so much work for me, but my dad. Which I admit I fully feel guilty for asking him for help. He LOVES doing stuff like this. But as my dad gets older, I start to feel guilty for asking for help. He'll be 63 in November of this year, so it's not like he's a frail old man, but that's not exactly the point I'm making. I suppose it's a hard realization for me to see that my dad is indeed not Superman. Growing up my dad was like a super hero to me. There was nothing MY dad could not do. My dad was the best dad in the world. Some of the things he and my mom did for me when I was younger make me really appreciate them as parents. However, as I get older, I relunctantly start to see that my dad (and my mom) are human, they aren't superheroes anymore. It has been a very hard road for me to accept that my mom and dad won't live forever like I thought as a kid.

Trying to lead a healthy lifestyle, for me, has a whole lot less to do with eating and exercise and whole lot more to do with learning that life is indeed about living and it sure is short. Eating right and exercise can help, but if you can't accept who and what you are, as well as who and what the people are around you, life becomes a very negative place. It has, and will continue to be a rough road accepting the challenges life hands, and the ones I have been previously handed. The only way to walk that road is to put one foot in front of the other and just keep moving, just keep moving. Can't look back now, nothing positive in pounding out the details of the past.