I love this time of year because of the light. Light, light, light. It's all around me. First thing in the morning until late-ish at night. And when it's like this I want to be outside. All. The. Time.
Today I took a bike ride in the light of Liberty Park with all that green dappled sunshine falling on my hair and everywhere. I saw a young man strolling his baby and walking his pit bull and he was covered with tattoos.
Here's the deal with me and tattoos. I'm always interested. Emma, when your mother and I went to SF when we were 19, she was afraid that I'd fun off and get one (I didn't), but since I am old now, you can see from this that my fascination goes back for forever.
Anyway. I always ask people about their tattoos. At first I used to worry that the people would think I was being too forward, but what I've discovered is this--the tattooed ones like to talk about their ink. So I always ask why they chose what they chose and I hear interesting stories. Which brings me back to today's young dad. He had a huge portrait of Karl Marx's head tattooed on his calf. When I asked him why Karl Marx, he said, "Unfortunately there aren't many serious socialists around these days."
But hot damn! I met one today. In Liberty Park.