Tattoos Gone Wild

Now I've seen it all--a tattoo supply van making the rounds in my Normal Heights neighborhood. A neighborhood, by the way, whose name becomes more paradoxical by the week. Anyway, I was already going to write a bit about the proliferation of tattoo shops--sometimes called "parlors" for some reason I've never known--and what should I see parked in front of one of our newest tattoo establishments but a big really cool looking step van--the kind UPS uses--and on the side is painted, "San Diego Tattoo Supply. I'm not kidding. You can go to their website and check it out. Apparently there are now enough such shops to justify establishing a supply route for ink and needles and things. Things have come a long way since the days of the Helms bread truck and milk delivery.

While I am on the subject, have you noticed the way tattoos have been creeping up onto young women's necks and faces? Seems not all that long ago when the only tattoo you'd see on a female was perhaps a little butterfly near her ankle. Then it was the "tramp stamp" which I still feel is a bit harsh as a term, but is is nicely alliterative. Then one began to see shoulder tatts, like sailors made famous.  Then "sleeves."  Now that once-so-innocent mischievous little butterfly is likely as not to be found on her cheek (either one). Not only that, but it is likely to be joined by a profusion of flowers, vines, birds, and who knows what. And those are the innocent graphics. Then there is the test. You know, tattooed text. I've seen a young women with a sentence running up and down the back of each leg. I've see others with whole paragraphs on their upper chest. I she is standing in the next grocery line over, I dare you not to try to at least make a few words out in order to get the gist of the message. Well, if you live somewhere--I can't imagine it--where you don't see the things I'm talking about, then just do  Google search with the terms "tattoo" and "girl" and you'll get quickly up to speed.

The Karma of My Neighborhood

I live in a San Diego neighborhood called Normal Heights. The joke around town is that it is anything but. My wife and I don't really fit the political/cultural make up of the area (I'd guess this neighborhood went 98.7% for Obama. The other 1.3%? Peace and Freedom. We really don't mind and actually like the charming and somewhat quirky flavor of the area. Up on Adams Ave is a very popular coffee house called Lastat's. It has lots of gargoyles making faces at you from many vantage points on/around the building. It's a popular hang out for the goths and several other sub-culture groups. I guess sub-cultures of a feather flock together. A friend of mine and I had coffee there once. It was nice. Next time I go there I think I'll wear one of those knit hats that come with dreadlocks sewn around the inside edge.

Anyway, that was all introduction to a recently overheard conversation I want to tell you about. It perfectly captures the flavor of our little Normal Heights community. I was out for a walk when, not far from the vegan/yoga restaurant I saw a younger looking woman on a bicycle stopped curbside asking directions from an older earth-mother type. The younger woman had on some flowing Buddhist style clothing and one of those odd pear-shaped shoulder sling things lots people in the area carry. Anyway, as the girl on the bike began to peddle away, the earth-mother woman called out to her, "Good Karma Sweetie!" "And to you" the younger woman called back over her shoulder as she peddled away.

Mr. Rodgers' attire might clash here, but I think he would have felt right at home in this neighborhood.