some days, you just break your hands off.
that's cool, i guess.
i worked some more on jake's gigantic body,
with his gigantic half-celtic/ half regionally-non-specific'nesian tribal attack:
that's the second big batch of black and grey he's gotten in like a week.
that's toughness on his part, and hand-crampin' hell on mine.
and before that, i got down on another 'nother second generation client.
madeline's mom made her an appointment last year (ha)
and got her in for a mid-back mandala:
i still do that.
my hands hurt, neighbors.
after a non-stop post-christmas rush of tattoos,
my actual almost-forty-three-year-old hands are a bit beat up.
i'm only slightly complaining, because they really do hurt,
but mostly, i'm so happy to have these folks all returning for MORE.
too much is the right amount,
and maybe i don't have to always get after every tattoo like my life depends on it,
but if i didn't, i'd feel like i was't giving it my most honest effort-
if it isn't physically exhausting me, i can't feel good about how hard i'm working.
i'm hella thankful for these folks, and for their trust in what i do.
not everything i do is a F*ing expert daruma,
but everything gets my full attention.
i think that counts for something on the big scorecard in the sky;
never quiet, never soft.....