The other day, the topic at The Daily Post was tattoos.

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That’s my tattoo. I got it done, oh, probably 13 years ago. One of the best decisions I’ve made. It just truly makes me happy, makes me smile. Few people see it aside from my husband, but that’s not the point. I don’t know if I can even explain why I love it, it’s essentially a meaningless design in an unoriginal spot. I guess maybe it has something with the permanence of it. Okay, and I think tattoos are sexy.

That’s David’s. Yes, he’s my sunshine. I know – cheesy, but true nonetheless.

I would love to get another tattoo. This time I think I would pick something with more meaning for me, no names or dates or coordinates, but maybe the first few bars of Ode to Joy or a quote from a book I love. Or a nice big semicolon on my inner forearm.