How it's supposed to be...

My Papa used to make us a lot of toys. He was the one that made us the most realistic toy gun we ever had. He carved the stock out of a 2X4 and somehow managed to add a metal barrel. It was coveted by the three of us and our cousins when they were still young enough to play war.

My favorite toy that he ever made was a stick with a wheel. The stick was more like a skinned branch--thick and sturdy like a hefty cane. The wheel was a screw-in castor wheel...the kind that normally attaches to items of furniture. He'd just screw the wheel into the bottom of the stick/branch and we'd push it around the yard for forever. Sometimes I'd chase my fat, younger cousin around with the stick-wheel. Sometimes I'd just chase the air around. Didn't matter. It was just fun.

The wheel tended to want to turn in a circle. Picture it: me--like the toe-headed, red-cheeked girl from Poltergeist--pushing a stick around in circles. Sometimes chasing a fat cousin. Sometimes not. It must have been absurd. And you'd have every right to laugh. Not because it was stupid but because--unless you've had the experience--you can't possibly imagine the stupid, pointless, simple joy of pushing around a stick-wheel. Especially if it's after your fat cousin.

Over the summer I finally go the WV tattoo I've been wanting for 3 years or so. After that, I decided I wanted full lower sleeves of WV ish but I've had trouble deciding on what it would be. First I thought I might get a black bear fighting a giant cardinal. But that seemed too trite and not personal enough. But tonight...tonight I figured it out. My next tattoo will be on the inside of my left forearm. It'll be a black bear pushing a stick-wheel. And later, when I have the money, I'll get something on the outside of my forearm, probably a cardinal, taking aim at the bear with a slingshot.