Of tattoos and boots

My 41st birthday is tomorrow. The day after Christmas. Last year, for my 40th, I got my first tattoo to celebrate both middle-age and my impending divorce.10613027_10205456722157927_1393508166223171513_n
Today, with my kids at their mother’s, I started this blog. Tomorrow I plan on going back to the mall with my daughter (12) to exchange the pair of boots that I got her for Christmas. I hate malls. I love my daughter.

She wanted boots with buckles. I had crowd-sourced information before the holiday on how to buy a pair of boots for a twelve year old. No heel and below the knee, the women at work told me. My girlfriend even went with me. Buckles – check. No heel – check. Even got the right foot size. When she put the boots on after unwrapping them, the width around her calves was huge. A second leg could have fit into each boot.

So…41st birthday. Mall. Daughter. Boots. Calves. No tattoo.

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