My Whyyy-yyyyy-yy

Yes, I know Annie Lennox would be proud of that title. But musical distraction aside, that's not what I'm here to talk about today...

I'm here to talk about my "why". WHY I got into LuLaRoe, WHY I am here today, WHY I'm writing a blog post...

So where to begin? A little background, if you will...

I grew up in Northern California for the first 20 yrs of my life. I LOVED it there. I still do. I miss the ocean like crazy now. And when I lived there, I was all about music. I have been a musician since the age of four (vocal and instrumental), and while I lived there, that was my life. I played in bands, quartets, sang in choirs, taught saxophone lessons... and, at that point, I was going to teach music. Because I loved doing it.

So I moved to Colorado to go to college, with the thought of being a music teacher in my mind. And that went well for a few years until I realized that I didn't know if being a teacher was right for me at the time. So I graduated with a Bachelor's in Technical Journalism with a Public Relations concentration. And a music minor. *insert breath here* So now you may understand the writing a blog post a little more... ;) But I got into writing because I loved doing that too.

So I did some PR/media relations stuff, while keeping my job at a shoe store, because I LOVE shoes. And clothes too. From a very young age, I've been putting outfits together and playing dress up (that still hasn't changed). Because I loved it. Hey, anyone sensing a theme here... ? ;)

Flash forward to seven years ago. I came back to Colorado after hanging out in North Carolina for a bit. My life had hit a wall of sorts, and I decided to go to massage school. Because, honestly, it was shorter than PT school. What I didn't expect was for me to fall head over heels in love with it. Seriously, every little bit. And it was definitely one of my callings. I was good at it, people wanted to come see me because I taught them about their bodies, and my enthusiasm for the trade was obviously clear. And all was going SO well until...

October 29, 2014. It's kinda like my D Day. I was in a horrible car accident. One you don't forget quickly or ever will. I thought I could bounce back like any other day. I mean, I HAD to work. But something else intervened when I heard the words I'll never forget: "You dissected your vertebral artery. You need to take a break and rest or you could have a stroke." I was 38 at the time. And I wasn't about to have a stroke at 38.

I rested, I recouped. I went back to work three months later. But I still wasn't me. I worked for a year after I was cleared, and then, about a year ago, the mental and physical things associated with an major accident came out in force. So I was forced to take some time off from massaging. As much as I hated doing it, I NEEDED to do it. To get myself back. The girl I was pre-10/29/14.

So about six months ago, I was introduced to LuLaRoe by a friend from high school, who was starting her own boutique. I loved the clothes and I loved how I could mix and match things. And wear Converse with EVERYTHING (and I do). Mandy (my now sponsor) said that we bonded over "Carly's and Converse", and there is no truer statement. And as I saw what fun she was having, and how their clothing even fit MY body ( I thought my legs were going to break the TC leggings), I thought this might be an option, especially after finding out that I had torn my labrum in my shoulder and that going back to massage was going to be a long road...

So I signed my contract on 9/11/16, and I cried. Not because I wasn't excited about the life change, but that's what it was, a LIFE CHANGE. I had to put something I loved on the back burner and I didn't know how to do that. And it was scary and it was heart-wrenching. But it was for the best.

So as I sit here, contemplating my "why", there were a few different reasons "why" I became a consultant...

1) The money. I wanted to be able to pay my own bills again. To have some independence again.

2) To help women feel as beautiful as I do in LuLaRoe's clothing. As a plus size woman, I used to hate to go shopping because even "plus sized" things didn't fit right. Maybe a few stores figured it out, but not all of them. And when I tried on LLR's clothing, I immediately felt beautiful. And it FIT! I just wanted to give that back. Sizes don't matter- it's what's in your heart that does. And I love bringing that out with clothing. Whether it's telling someone she looks amazing, or helping her style something, the minute I see that light come out, I immediately know that I picked the right path for myself at this point in my life.

3) To live. There are a couple of different meanings to this one. Obviously, I want to make money so I can live. So I can afford things. Do things. But the other meaning is more personal. When that doctor told me that I could have a stroke (the artery is now healed), it woke me up. You see, I've always been one hard worker. To the point of overdoing it sometimes. So this whole thing forced me to slow down and really examine my life. And while I still have flare ups, both mentally and emotionally, being a consultant lets me slow down and still work. I am ALWAYS working on balancing this aspect of my life, but maybe now, I will. So in every definition of the word, I want to "LIVE". I don't want to redissect that artery. I don't want to get so stressed that the lingering symptoms cause a stroke or something worse. I don't want to live to work; I want to work to live. And being a consultant and working for myself allows me this luxury. To take a breath when I need it. To not stress my shoulder so much. It's something that I didn't know I needed in my life, and something that I am truly blessed to be a part of. And I love it. :) And slowly but surely, that pre-10/29/14 girl is starting to surface again. And I'm happy she decided to join the party again because I sure did miss her...



Thank you for reading my mini-novel. It may be long, but it came from the heart. Every last word.

The day that changed me forever...

October 29th is now a day that I feel coming before it turns the date on the calendar. My anxiety, my neck, my shoulder- they all flare up leading up to Oct. 29th. Muscle memory at its finest. It used to be a happy date. My late grandmother's birthday is Oct. 29th. So is my college roommate's. And while I know it'll be that way again (it being a happy date, that is), I also know that it won't be this year...

So much has changed in two years. I went from thinking that I survived that accident with minor cuts and scrapes to learning that if my seatbelt had hit me two vertebrae higher, then I possibly could have had a stroke and died. That random muscle pain I felt off and on in my left shoulder? That was a torn labrum. The reason I still get dizzy and nauseous pretty consistently? My vestibular system pretty much needs to be reset. Oh, and you can get a cataract in your eye from blunt force trauma because I now have one. Not to mention my crossing eyes and speech that can still be impaired. And that's just the physical part of it. Add in some anxiety, depression, PTSD, more flashbacks than I can count, and countless tears and you have one f*$!ed up individual for the past two years. And I obviously had every reason to be that way.

But for the first time in two years, I feel like the tide is about to turn. I feel like I am moving forward with my recovery instead of moving forward, stopping, moving back, and then moving forward again. I feel like I am in the therapies I need to be in. I feel like maybe the fog is starting to lift. And maybe I can celebrate my guardian-angel-of-a-grandmother's birthday again, who saved her granddaughter not once, but twice (second one being 20 years ago) on or a day before her own damn birthday. I will definitely hear about this in the afterlife...

Thank you for letting me vent and write. The journalism major in me must still be there a bit. :)  I wrote this to help with the healing. And honestly, I wrote it so that everyone else will know what a big deal something like a car accident can be. Get everything checked out. Don't be afraid to fight for those tests and ask all the questions you can. Take all the time in the world to heal. We live in such a "go,go,go" society that we think that getting back to our lives sooner will help us after something like this. But sometimes it's to your detriment. Listen to your body, mind and spirit, and all three will let you know when it's time to return to reality. But if you don't heal first, then you can't heal anyone else. Take it from the healer herself. :)  And regarding that turning tide? Stay tuned... :) 

I remember...

This was written on October 17, 2014, 25 years after this fateful day. Posted it on FB and was told I should preserve this memory so that's exactly what I'm doing. :) 


I remember being home alone while my mom picked up my brother. I remember walking down the hallway to the living room to see what time the World Series was supposed to start. I remember never turning on the World Series because at 5:04 pm, the whole Bay Area came to a screeching halt due to a 6.9 earthquake. I remember hearing the rumble before I felt the shaking. I remember standing in the doorway between our kitchen and living room, watching as the kitchen cupboards were thrown open by the sheer force of the quake and the good china was dumped into the sink. I remember how it seemed like a year before the shaking stopped. I remember hearing nothing but the rumbling. When the earth literally stopped shaking, I remember seeing our entertainment center only being held up by its glass doors, right where I had stood just 30 seconds before. I remember the numerous aftershocks, some almost as big as the quake itself. I remember my best friend running down my street with her dogs in tow and she and I sticking together until our parents got home. I remember the hutch in my room toppling over and all of my Sweet Valley High books being strewn everywhere. I remember camping out in our family room because we had no power and no school for two days. And I remember that when we finally went back to school, all we could talk about was the earthquake. I remember seeing the TV and the newspapers and thinking how San Francisco looked like a war zone. And I remember that when they finally resumed the World Series, which would result in a 4-0 rout of the San Francisco Giants by my Oakland A's, it seemed to bring a sense of normalcy to an area that so desperately needed it at the time. I will never forget October 17, 1989, and I'm pretty OK with that because if I remember, it means I survived the quake when other people did not. So thanks for the rumbling warning, Mother Nature, because who knows what would have happened if I had been standing where that entertainment center had fallen...

Dear Guardian Angel...

I wrote this on November 5th, a week after I was in a massive car accident. I still feel this way, six weeks later...



Dear Guardian Angel:

You know who you are. You're the one who saved my life a week ago. You're the one who saw the other car. You're the one who knew how hard the hit would be. You're the one who angled my car so that I would only graze the car in front of me. You're the one who closed my eyes so that the broken glass from my shattered back windshield wouldn't end up in my eyes. My bra, yes, but not my eyes. You're the one who pulled my foot off the brake so my car would move instead of getting smashed between two cars. You're the one who broke my seat so that I spent most of the ride across two lanes of traffic on my back. You're the one who broke my seat, shoving me backwards instead of into my steering wheel, which may have resulted in a broken arm or forearm, something NOT good for a massage therapist. You're the one who kept my sense of humor and sarcasm intact during the whole ordeal. You're the one who figured I was strong enough (physically and mentally) to handle the aftermath of such a serious accident. And you're the one who resides on my left arm, in black and white ink, unscathed other than a little muscle weakness, ready to save me again...

And today, a week later, I just want to say thank you. Thank you for being awake to react so quickly. Thank you for making it so much better than it could have been. Thank you for waking me up to the more important things in life. And thank you for saving a healer's life so that she can possibly heal again...

My permanent guardian angel. Tattoo done by Adam Rose at Fallen Owl Tattoo in Lakewood, CO.

I laughed, I cried... and I enjoyed every minute of it-Story of a back piece, The Conclusion

I had to wait a while to write this last part. Part of it was because of my schedule. Part of it because I was in shock. Yep, in shock. It was such an intricate process. So many sessions over a certain amount of time. And when it was first discussed, I was warned that it was a process that would require a lot of time and money. That I understood, especially since I knew how far Adam was booking out. Only a mere five months at the time. I also thought that since I was the girl who powered through a six-hour upper arm piece, this would go SO fast. Yeah, not so much...

From the seal cover-up to the Golden Gate Bridge to the trolley car to the mountains and the trees to the Giant Dipper to the carousel horse and, finally, to the poppies. And let's not forget the fog that ties it all together because what would Northern California be without fog? :) My "quick" little back piece ended up being 10 sessions (if memory serves) and around 24 hours (give or take) of table/chair time, with those individual sessions ranging anywhere from an hour (which shocked both of us because short sessions were never our thing) to four hours. That's one whole DAY of either sitting or laying down and letting someone voluntarily poke at me with multiple needles. Glutton for punishment or did I give someone a canvas for which to put his art? Guess that depends on how you look at it...

But through this drawn-out process, I actually managed to learn things about myself, my body, my artist, the whole tattooing process and so much more:

• First off, I have one of the higher pain tolerances of anyone I know and, being a massage therapist who does a lot of structural/therapeutic work, I also know my body extremely well. So I thought my back was going to be one of the least painful places to get tattooed. Until I remembered that the tissue around ribs can be a little sensitive. And sometimes the spine. And the bra line. And over scar tissue. Oh, and did I mention that my muscles SUCK because I massage for a living? So I will be the first one to admit that the pain (while still totally tolerable) was more than I anticipated in certain areas. And mainly on my left. Definitely the more sensitive side. And while he could have tattooed my traps all day and I wouldn't have felt a thing, my ribs and those dreaded love handles were a totally different story...
• Magnesium is a godsend when it comes to having to relax your muscles. I took it from about session #7 on or so and I felt the needles less and it relaxed me at the same time. And it didn't affect the healing process at all. In fact, it might have actually helped it. And another thing about hanging out in a tattoo studio for 24 hours or so? It was kind of a refresher course for me (who learned a lot about skin and the healing process in massage school), being around people who know just as much if not more about it. 
• I used my muscle knowledge and every meditation technique I could think of to zone out so that it was a pleasant process for both myself and Adam. Can't say I did the best job at times, but for the most part, I was half-asleep (while still totally conscious of what was happening around me) for most of those 10 sessions. I mean, come on, I have to ground myself for a living. Doing it for a tattoo session is not much different really. And yes, Adam, that's why I didn't talk much. :) Also I realized (and now I'm totally giving away all my secrets) that if I relaxed the muscle he was working on as much as I could (sometimes it was nearly impossible due to how I was sitting or laying), it hurts less and it's easier to breathe through. Also, if you exhale as the needle is going in while you are getting rib work, you're not resisting the needle as much, making it a much more "pleasant" process. Leave it to me to relate massage to tattooing. Hey, both of them involve a lot of the same things, just instead of a needle, I use a very pointy elbow. ;)
• The client and artist have to collaborate together in order for this to work out the way it needs to. He has to be happy with what he is putting on me and I have to be happy with what he's putting on me. Obviously, it's my back and I have to live with it. But he has to be happy with it because it's HIS artwork I'm putting it on my body and he wants to show it off and he wants me to show it off as well. So it's like one happy tattoo "marriage" and I was his tattoo "wife" for a few months... ;) 
• People watching at a tattoo studio is entertaining as hell. As well as hearing all the stories and truly getting to know the personalities of everyone at the shop. They were always friendly, but they got friendlier when you brought them cookies. Even the artists you've never come in with all of a sudden know who you are. ;) And while you conversed with and observed everyone in the shop, obviously the artist working on you was kind of the main focus. So what did I notice about Adam? Don't worry, hon, I'll be nice...
• He's a slight perfectionist, which is an awesome thing in my book, Because when you think about it, do you really want someone NOT detail-oriented or a perfectionist putting something permanently on your body? I wouldn't. And if he is always looking for somehow to make it better, then he's becoming better in the process. Although, that did make for some "focused" sessions and I did want to tell him to breathe a few times... ;) 
• In the year that he was consistently working on me, I saw him grow leaps and bounds as an artist. He was always an exceptional artist (and that's in my totally unbiased, non-artist opinion), but throughout the whole process (hell, even dating back to the angel), he just got better. Not just on me, but on other tattoos as well. And there is something I absolutely love about seeing someone who loves what he does for a living just keep growing within that profession, all the while still loving what he does. 
• As exceptional of an artist as he is, he's just as exceptional as a business owner. Oh yeah, he kind of owns Fallen Owl too. ;) That's always been a big thing in my book because I spent way too many years in management and customer service and I've seen the good and the bad when it comes to owners/managers. And he's one of the better ones out there. And no, I'm not just kissing his ass. ;) While you are in very close proximity to this man for 24 hours or so, you notice how he manages and deals with customers and employees alike. Hell, he talks about the shop and tattooing so much, I found it very easy to slip back into my old PR habits and promote the shop easily because he gave me the ammo to work with. And all this time I just thought he was spewing a lot of hot air, which was also true. :)
• He will be the first person to yell at me for NOT mentioning the rest of his shop in this blog. Because they are a family. A very happy and severely disfunctional one, but a family nonetheless. :) And you can tell that they make each other better just by being in the same shop. When a business is truly firing on all cylinders (and the shop has truly grown in every way since I started coming to Fallen Owl), everything is just...better. Adam, Freddie, Sherley, Chris, and now Angell are all in another league when it comes to artists. And Miss Kasja holds down the front desk and everything else in the shop. The vibe has always been awesome in the shop (I laughed constantly during most of my sessions) and that helps their clients be more relaxed the minute they walk in the door. 

I love everything that I learned in this whole process, but I think the most eye-opening thing happened during my last session. I pretty much knew that we would finish it that day. I had no other appointments on his schedule and did I mention that he's now booking out until next year??!! As in 2015. And this was at the end of May. So I knew that we would probably push to get it done that day. While there were some painful spots and I had to really concentrate on breathing a few times, I all of a sudden found myself crying on the table. But not from the pain because I honestly didn't feel it right then. It was an emotional release. There was a lot of built-up emotion from the whole process. The stress of not knowing what we were going to do until the day of at times, the elation after seeing each section of it get finished... The emotions you feel for the artwork, the artist, the shop, as well as the emotion behind the meaning of the artwork itself. I mean, a major piece of my childhood is now permanently on my back. Like until I die. That's HUGE. And as someone who feels everything with her whole heart, that hit me hard. Especially when I realized that it was over. Like I could sleep on my back again over. And I could shower with my back to the water again over. For about a week after my last session, I went through a mourning of sorts. Shock, denial, sadness, giddiness. While I was happy that we were finally done, I had put SO much of my energy into it that I had severe withdrawals when it WAS done. Wait, I don't have to think about it anymore? I don't have to wait a week for everything to heal? I don't have to say, yeah, we're almost done, anymore? Weird... And I may be the only person in the Universe who feels this way, but I kind of doubt that I am. Because it was a true life process. And life processes can sometimes tear you down to the raw core of everything, just to open your eyes and make you learn something from it.

And I learned something huge about myself. I am a hell of a lot stronger than I think I am. Physically, mentally, emotionally, I am one tough cookie. No, not one of the ones I brought them. ;) I knew this in the back of my brain, but I guess I needed a very large reminder in the form of a very colorful mural on my back. And since it's a tribute to the state I will always love, I also have a reminder of where I came from and who I really am. I'm a Californian, damnit. Regardless of how many years I spend in Colorado, I will ALWAYS be a California girl. It's who I am. The girl who tears up when she sees the ocean or the Golden Gate Bridge. Or who still giggles when she sees the Giant Dipper's rolling curves or when she gets the ring in the clown's mouth on the carousel at the Boardwalk. Who proudly states that she's from the Golden State, even when the Coloradoans are bitching that the Californians and Texans have taken over the state. And I love that me getting this back piece has brought me back to that. So this may have been a painful process. It may have been an emotional process. But I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. I went in for a back piece and somehow got my life back at the same time. I will never be able to repay Adam for that, but I know that I will be forever grateful...

Thank you for reading this truly lengthy conclusion to something that has consumed my life for the better part of a year.  I really hope you take something out of it. And if nothing else, I hope you go to Fallen Owl for your next tattoo. ;)

Facebook post- "So two and a half years ago, I walked into his tattoo shop, saw his work in passing and thought, "maybe he'll do something on me at some point..." A year later, he gave me my most complimented piece (my angel). And now, yet another year later, he gave me the back piece only he could give me. A big, bold, colorful tribute to the craziness that is Northern California. And proof that a San Jose girl and a Santa Cruz boy can get along.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart, Adam! Better than I ever could have imagined and can't imagine anyone else doing it. I absolutely adore you and your shop and you proved that stumbling into your shop two years ago was the right stumble.  Oh, and might I add, go see everyone at Fallen Owl Tattoo, Denverites!"

Artwork by Adam Rose of Fallen Owl Tattoo

Story of a back piece, Part #2 - I like the attention, but I don't like the attention...

So when we started this back piece a mere 10 months ago, I thought, Ok, I'm going to get some amazing artwork and I'm going to have a kick-ass tribute to my home state from my shoulders to my waistline. And I've also thought this with all of my other tattoos as well. It's always been about the artists and their work and if it just so happens to be on my body, then so be it. But what I didn't realize was the attention that comes with it. And that attention only increases when you have a very, very, very good artist working on you...

I've done things my whole life that have involved me getting a lot of attention. I was a performing arts kid from the age of four. Singing, dancing, acting. I was in plays, musicals, bands, you name it. I sang solos, performed in groups. Even when I was in sports, I was always on a team (1991 Softball World Series runner-up, baby!) that garnered a lot of attention. And while I LOVED being a part of all of this and wouldn't trade it for anything in the world, I was doing for the LOVE of everything, not for the attention. I liked hearing the compliments and the congratulatory comments, but I'm also a severe perfectionist. I was probably focusing on how I screwed up my solo or how I could have done better in some way. I have grown out of that a little bit, but it's definitely still there. ;) So as much as I loved doing things that required the spotlight at times, I really, really, really didn't like the attention they brought...

And I don't know why I thought this would be different with my tattoos. Only in the past couple of years have I started getting visible tattoos. I've been lucky enough to work in a field and for a boss who doesn't seem to mind if I show up with another tattoo on my arm. Believe me, I tested that very early on in my tenure at my current job. ;) I also started getting work from better artists a couple of years ago (see my previous blog on Fallen Owl Tattoo). And it started with small, random comments about the line work and the color on the ones on my forearms. Then the angel showed up. And the beach scene on my forearm. When it was not warm outside and I was wearing sleeves, nobody even noticed that this innocent-looking white girl (notice I said innocent-LOOKING) was hiding a decent amount of ink on her arms. But then, it started to get warmer, the sleeves got shorter, and all of a sudden, I was getting stopped in every place in every state, getting complimented on my tattoo work. At first I thought, well, this is kind of cool. You never know how people nowadays are going to take your tattoos, so the fact that they were liking them was a total positive in my book. And they were stopping me from across a store and across parking lots. Literally. I was in California last summer for my brother's wedding and I was walking into a Starbucks. I swear I was a good 50-75 feet away from these two guys sitting outside and as I got up to them, I got stopped and asked where I had gotten the angel done. The guy was a little mad when I said Colorado. :) But he had seen her WAY before I walked up to him. And that was my third tattoo compliment in about five minutes that day. My forearm piece (because it's so original and colorful) gets quite a bit of attention as well. And I didn't think my back piece would get a lot ('cause it's mostly covered up), but I wore a partially backless shirt one day and yep... I was asked to break out pictures of the whole piece or to strip down so they could see it. I obviously choose the former...There was a "viewing party" of sorts the last time I was at my salon.

Now the purpose of this is not to slam everyone who compliments my tattoos or tell them to stop. Not even close. I understand that it comes with the territory and that I will continue to get attention for my work until I'm old and wrinkly. And I love my tattoos because they are a part of who I am and always will be. And most of the people who compliment them are super sweet and sincere about it. But that's just it. I like the attention, but I don't like the attention. I like that they get attention, but shy away from the attention I get because it's not really about me. I LOVE the fact that my artists are getting recognized for their work and that I say their names twice as much as I say my own. I LOVE being a walking billboard for the tattoo shop that I have grown to absolutely love. And anytime they need me to show off their work and support the shop, I'm totally there. BUT I did not realize the amount of attention I was in for when I started this whole process. I did not realize the attention me AND my body would both get. Call me naive, call me an introvert, but I've just been in it for the artwork and what it means to me the whole time. And with every, "Thank you very much. Yeah, I have an amazing artist, don't I?", there's also a shy, introverted, perfectionist, self-conscious girl who cares more about getting her artists noticed than getting herself noticed. Who is silently thinking, "Yeah, but if I only lost my lovehandles or my tricep jiggle, they could take a better picture of it or the tattoo itself would just look better on it.." I've been like that my whole life. What this comes down to is body image and, while massage school was a severe wake-up call to me in that department and I'm a lot more comfortable in my skin now, it's still there...And this whole process has been bringing it to the forefront more than I thought it would. 

Yes, I know I asked for this the minute I asked for the tattoo work. I asked for the attention to the artwork and to my body. But that's where I'm stuck in the dichotomy of this whole thing. Even though I may not embrace the attention or be used to it, I'm going to HAVE to get used to people staring at my tattoos and my body. Because I won't stop telling people my artists are awesome or try to drum up business for them. But I guess I didn't realize how much the whole tattoo process would force me to deal with body image issues I've been dealing with since high school. So the girl who doesn't like attention (especially to her body which will never be perfect and I know that) is going to have to learn to live with it. So bring on the compliments, the smiles and the gasps. Hell, tell me my artist sucks if you really want to get a rise out of me. ;) But with summer coming and my sleeves getting shorter and shorter, I'm ready to show off any of the work that I can show off, within reason obviously. ;)

Tattoo and artwork done by Adam Rose at Fallen Owl Tattoo, Lakewood, CO

Tattoo and artwork done by Sherley Escribano at Fallen Owl Tattoo, Lakewood, CO

Tattoo and artwork done by Freddie Arroyo at Fallen Owl Tattoo, Lakewood, CO

Tattoo and artwork done by Adam Rose at Fallen Owl Tattoo, Lakewood, CO

Story of a back piece: Part #1- The cover-up covered up so much more than the tattoo itself...

When I started thinking about getting a tattoo back piece done, I had two existing tattoos on my back already. So I knew that either my artist would have to work around them or he/she would have to be a killer cover up artist (luckily, he is) and at least cover up one of them. But when I thought of one of them getting covered, I didn't really think about the significance of the whole thing...until now.

The one on my upper back is a pair of drama masks, a #10 and a pink breast cancer ribbon. I got it the year my mom passed the 10 year mark for being cancer free. Not the best tattoo in the world, but my mom loved it, so obviously, it wasn't getting covered. We did make it look prettier though. :) But then, there was the sun and moon tribal (or as my artist called it, "the fucking tribal") on my lower back...

I got this in 2003 at Skibo's Tattoo when I still lived in Fort Collins. Actually 11 years ago this month if memory serves (and we all know my thing for the #11). I wanted the sun and moon because I love the sun (I AM a California girl after all) and I am a night owl so the moon is my friend as well. I know, shitty explanation for a tattoo, but I was 26 at the time and could care less. The artist I got had just finished her apprenticeship. Oh, and did I mention that I had had back surgery just four months prior to this. Recipe for an amazing tattoo? Riiiiight. I can hear my current artist laughing and/or swearing at me from here... :) I put it just above the aforementioned scar tissue; I was at least smart enough to not put it directly over the scar tissue. But the next two hours were two of the more painful of my life. And not just because she was a brand-new tattoo artist, tattooing through an obscene amount of scar tissue. That was the physical pain side of it, but the emotional pain that she was helping get rid of was a whole different story...

I was 26, working corporate retail, just had back surgery to help take the pain away...and the pain was coming back. Two months prior to the tattoo, I was diagnosed with panic disorder. Two full-blown panic attacks in under a month. And with this also came a severe case of depression. I mean, I used to be an athlete, for Christ's sake, and I was being deduced to a panicky, pain-ridden mess??!! So I figured if I found something else to cause me pain, then maybe it would take away the other one... Fucked up philosophy, I know, but I wasn't exactly thinking clearly at the time. And after two hours of her digging into my scar tissue, the pain did go away for a bit. But only because it had gotten numbed...

Flash-forward 10+ years. The panic attacks and depression are well behind me. I'm extremely happy with my life. I'm still trying to get back to that athlete prowess. I still have back pain, but I'm a therapeutic (read: severe deep tissue) massage therapist for a living. If my back didn't hurt, I would be a little concerned. But that tribal was still on my low back. 

So last August, the first part of my back piece (a tribute to my beloved Northern California) was to cover up the tribal. An adorable seal pup was chosen as the appropriate vessel for both the Nor Cal theme and the cover-up. And this time my artist had to go through the scar tissue from the back surgery AND the tribal tattoo. And yes, it did hurt in certain spots (my tolerance has gotten WAY higher over the past 11 years), but this time, it was just the physical pain of the needle going through scar tissue. That's it. I actually had to laugh a couple of days later because I realized that by going through said scar tissue, he broke it up.  I felt nothing in my lower back for the first time in I don't know how many years. The physical pain was gone and, without knowing it, the emotional pain that I felt 11 years ago had gotten "covered up" too. The seal covered up everything that tribal stood for, but that was an amazing thing. The seal brings a huge smile to my face every time I see him and he also moves when I move, which just makes me giggle. I am no longer that girl who got the sun and moon tribal 11 years ago. Not even close. In fact, thank GOD I don't have to see that tribal anymore because, quite honestly, the sweet, adorable seal pup is a lot closer to my personality than the tribal ever was.  And that's the cool thing about the amazing tattoo artists nowadays. Practically anything can be covered up, including "the fucking tribal"... :)

***My cover-up "magician" in question is Mr. Adam Rose, owner and artist at Fallen Owl Tattoo in Lakewood, CO. You should totally check out his work sometime 'cause he's slightly freaking awesome. :) 

 

Save A Fallen Owl: It's NOT all about the tattoos this time.

So I'm talking to my mom the other night and the subject of my tattoo shop and their upcoming charity event comes up. They are doing $25 owl tattoos on Sunday, October 20th, from 12-5pm, and all of the proceeds go to a local organization called Nature's Educators, which strives to educate people on wildlife and birds of prey.  And since the shop's name is Fallen Owl, the event is called Save A Fallen Owl. Hey, they are finally working with an organization that works with their name. :) We are talking about what owls we want to get tattooed on us (Mom's still on the fence, but I think I'm breaking her down...) because the tattoos are being selected from a pre-drawn sheet of owls. And as we are talking, we are both commenting on how amazing the event is and how many people are going to be there and how awesome the shop is for doing an event like this...And then, it dawns on me; it's NOT all about the tattoos this time.

For almost two years now, I have been talking to my friends, family, and clients about this AMAZING tattoo shop and the awesome artists who make up Fallen Owl. And usually, it's all about the artwork. Everyone is always asking me what I'm getting next, where it's going and if it has a meaning behind it. I don't think I have many friends, family or clients anymore who DON'T ask about or compliment the artwork on my body. And whether I'm telling them what's next or taking off articles of clothing to show them my latest piece (it has happened more times than I care to admit), it is always about the tattoos themselves and how my artists are amazing. 

But for Save A Fallen Owl, the artwork is NOT in the forefront. Yes, the owl tattoos are getting people in the door, but it's not the primary reason for the event. The artists are just doing what they do best: tattooing. It IS still about those amazing artists, but in a totally different way. The shop is normally open on a Sunday, but most of the artists are coming in on a day off. And tattooing for five hours, which is a decent stretch of time, and doing it all so that they can donate the money to charity. How many other tattoo studios...hell, how many other normal businesses do you know that would do that? Not many...

So in two and a half weeks, this little-tattoo-shop-that-could needs your help. And not for them, but for Nature's Educators. They want to raise as much money as they can, even if their hands are killing them by the end of it. They would probably prefer that way actually. :) If you're in Denver and need another tattoo, go on their Facebook page, check out the pre-drawn owls, pick something out and be ready at noon on the 20th with your $25. Even if you just want to stop by, donate, and see the live birds (oh yeah, there will be LIVE owls on location), that's cool too. Out-of-staters, I have a funny feeling they would accept donations from you as well. :) I will make sure not to spend too much money on my vacation the week before so that I can get tattooed and donate to an awesome cause. I will be there (hopefully with Mom and a few friends in tow) and I will be ridiculously proud to take part in this awesome event. I will even volunteer my little massage therapist self to the cause that day and will be ready and willing to work out any hands, arms, shoulders, backs, etc., that may cramp up or get sore during the event. This event is yet one more reason that I am proud to go to this shop and know the artists in it. So please come out on the 20th and tell all your friends!

You can take the girl out of California, but you can't take California out of the girl...

I grew up in California. I ran away from it in 1996 and ended up in Colorado. As much as I LOVED my home state, I needed to get away from my family, the crazy growing population of the Bay Area, and figure out what I was going to do with my life. Now while I didn't figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up until MUCH later in life, and as much as I claimed to NOT miss California, I missed it dearly. That didn't really hit until I went home recently for my brother's wedding. And it was only enhanced by the start of a tattoo back piece, paying tribute to my home state, with my artist who is also from there (why do you think I picked him to do it? ;)). So that's why I'm sitting here now, reminiscing about my former life in California, and writing a compact blog about what I remember. Some good, some bad, but definitely different than your typical blog from me. So if you ever wanted to know how I grew up, here you go...

I grew up in Saratoga, CA, or the "Slums of Saratoga" as we affectionately called the six street annex of Saratoga in which we lived. On the other side of the tracks (literally) where we were still middle-class, just not in the part of Saratoga where Steve Young lived. My grandfather died when I was seven months old. He is the reason I am musically gifted.  And then my grandmother got cancer and had to be driven to Kaiser in San Jose (from their house in Aptos) for treatments. I don't remember the treatments because I was too young to go in, but I do remember her losing her hair and my mom taking me and my brother to the park across the street while we waited. She died 10 days before my fifth birthday, but my mom still went ahead with the party. I think this may be where my crazy memory with dates comes from. I still have dolls that she handmade for me. We went to Aptos often to help keep the house up so we could rent it out. My brother and I acted out movies in the front yard as we raked up the leaves. Everything from the script to the theme music. Shocked that he became an actor? Not so much... I remember going to the Boardwalk often, probably as a solace from everything surrounding the house at the time, but we just knew it as beach and roller coaster time. And probably why I still hold it very close to my heart to this day. My mother couldn't wait until I got tall enough to go on the Giant Dipper with her. That's also where we spent Senior Ditch Day in high school, riding the Giant Dipper WAY too many times. But in high school, my friends and I would drive up Highway 1 to Scott Creek because Santa Cruz had gotten too crowded. We also went to downtown Los Gatos during the World Cup in 1994 and danced with the Brazilians, who had just beat the U.S. team on the Fourth of July. Call us unpatriotic, but the Brazilians and 30,000 other people knew how to party. Our softball team went to the Little League Softball World Series in 1991, where we finished...second. Honestly, I'm still a little bitter about that, but hey, we were second in the whole country. Freaking Florida.. ;) I grew up going to Yosemite National Park pretty much two to three times a year when I was younger. I wouldn't be shocked at all if I was conceived there. I remember taking camping precautions to ensure that the bears didn't get our food. I took a field trip to Alcatraz in the fifth grade and all I can remember is us getting locked in a cell. I was home alone when the 1989 earthquake hit. I remember every detail of that day, from the time the earthquake hit on. I remember having my breath taken away every time I saw the Golden Gate Bridge. I once walked across it AT NIGHT in shorts and a sweatshirt and wasn't cold. At all. The seals at Pier 39 still crack me up. The Demon was the best roller coaster at Great America. I think we skied at literally every resort in Tahoe. I thought it was the coolest thing that if you went to the top at Heavenly, you were half in California and half in Nevada.  My favorite part about the Monterey Bay Aquarium was playing with the starfish. I ditched class at West Valley College and drove to the beach on my birthday. My best friend and I would drive to Half Moon Bay, singing show tunes the whole way, and then, get a loaf of what we described as "orgasmic" sourdough bread at Moonside Bakery and then, turn around and drive home. I never truly appreciated the small beach town until I got older. The only reason I went to church was to sing in the choir. I took figure skating lessons at Vallco WAY too early in the morning. My mom would bribe me with peanut butter toast and a trip to the Hello Kitty store to get me out of bed. :) I sliced off my left thumbnail with a dumpster lever when I was 4. I proudly showed off the splint and that is probably the last time I screamed bloody murder. I knew the six freeways we had to take to get to my grandparents' house in Sacramento before I even got behind the wheel of a car. I knew every twist and turn of Highway 17 before I got behind the wheel of a car. I was in a professional saxophone quartet and taught saxophone lessons when I was 18. I thought it was a TON of money at the time when I made (maybe) $400/month. I rooted loud and proud for the 49ers and the A's. I still have Walt Weiss' autograph from his rookie year with the A's. The Giants and Will Clark were the devil. I booed loudly when the Raiders moved back to Oakland. I was happy as hell that we got a hockey team, but I didn't fully understand the game until I became an Avs fan. My friends and I went camping and hiking at Pinnacles National Monument consistently. I remember slightly testing the speed limits on the way down. ;) I remember going to my family's condo in Eden, UT, to ski one winter break and my dad hit black ice while going through Nevada. It ended up being almost -30 and we had to get the car towed to Ogden to warm it up enough for it to start. We drove to South Dakota for a family reunion when I was in high school. Since I had just gotten my license, I got to drive. Everywhere. We went to Custer State Park and saw buffalo. The giant burros ate part of my brother's shirt. On our way home, we drove through Denver and saw a Rockies game when they still played at Mile High and when McNichols Arena was still in the parking lot. Not once did I think, I'm totally gonna live in this state in three years. ;) 

Now, I'm totally happy with my life in Colorado. I have amazing friends. I work at one of the best physical therapy offices in the state. I absolutely LOVE what I do for a living. Not to mention that awesome tattoo shop where I'm getting that back piece and the artist from Cali. ;) But I am a Californian. I think regardless of how long I live outside the state, I will always be a Californian. I still prefer the ocean to the mountains. The Rockies are trying hard to sway me, but the Pacific still has more pull. So maybe I just need more frequent trips back to the Bay so that I don't miss it so desperately next time. :) 

"Hi Ho, Hi Ho, We're off on our first adventure!...Did you just call me a HO???"

And with that, we set out on the first adventure of our hiking escapade! Well, actually, it started with me telling Val that she might wanna drive, unless she wanted to ride on my luggage rack, in which her reply was, "That sounds like fun!" OK, now we can officially begin...

Our first stop was the Broomfield County Commons Open Space and Tom Frost Reservoir at 128th Ave/Midway and Lowell in Broomfield (duh). I thought of it because I drive past it on the way to work and the views alone would keep us distracted, in a good way. As we parked at the dirt lot, Longs Peak, a famous 14-footer on the Front Range, said, "Good Morning!", through some clouds, and we were also greeted with a TON of walkers. Um, it's 9:30 a.m. on a Sunday. WTF??? As we joined the throngs of people walking around this massive loop, we found out that it was Miles-for-Smiles, a charity event. Ok, I guess we'll let them walk with us. But only after Val decided to make a random (albeit, funny) "disturbing" comment. "With that view, I guess we can be 'Down With The Sickness'." I took a step, stopped, looked at her, and then, proceeded to laugh my ass off. Yep, it was definitely too early for both of us...

So we set off on this very easy and mostly unpaved trail. We started the pedometer a little late (oops), but we knew we would be getting our mileage, just because we knew streets in the area and knew about how far it was between main intersections. There is a "reservoir" very early on in the hike, which is pretty much big enough for some fishing and that's about it. I have to say that it took my legs a little while to used to walking on a trail, especially when I usually am on a treadmill, and it took both of us a little while to get our strides and for our lungs to acclimate due to our recent bouts with head colds. But once we got going, we were thoroughly enjoying being outside (the weather was PERFECT walking weather), the scenery and, of course, the company. Because, as I mentioned before, we are both hilarious, especially when one or both of us is riled up. We discussed everything from work to our weekends to boys (we're both still single-we're allowed). We even spent some time telling our muscles to suck it up. I told my right hamstrings and glutes that they needed to start pulling their own weight, which they have been slacking on for years and I mentioned this to Val. "Does that mean that you have one firm butt cheek and one not-so-firm butt cheek?", she innocently asked. "Yep," I replied. "One awesome ass cheek and one droopy one. Which is kind of funny...but also, not that much." But my ass, literally, did eventually get it in gear.

And when it was all said and done and we had finished the loop and had taken too many pictures (OK, that was all me), we had walked (according to the pedometer and our calculations) about 2.6 miles. And we survived. Woo hoo! We would definitely recommend the walk to a friend, just for the gorgeous views alone. It's a very easy walk, but it has numerous forks in it (but no spoons) so you can customize your walk.This would also be a perfect loop to take your favorite pooch on. You don't need anything other than tennis shoes, a water bottle, an iPod, and a camera to get some pictures of Longs Peak. He does enjoy having his picture taken. :) We also recommend you bring someone to have conversations about Disturbed, forking (don't ask), and lazy glutes with because, frankly, these stories don't tell themselves. ;) Let's see where next week takes us. Thanks for reading our craziness. ;)

  
                              

You Gotta Start Somewhere...

So my roomie came up with the idea of taking a list of easy hikes around Colorado and doing one a week. It was my idea to write a blog on it. Now, the original idea was for us to get some exercise and to get out and see our gorgeous state. With this blog, we hope we can provide people with pertinent information about these easy hikes around Colorado and also encourage people to do the same thing. Another reason? We are hilarious. :) It's true. My roomie and I are two of the funniest people we know (completely biased, of course), and we would like to share this hilarity with everyone we know. And I am sure that hilarity and shenanigans will ensue when she and I take on something of this magnitude. We will post anything from random pics we take along the hikes to shopping for new hiking shoes to the random conversations (and we can TALK) we have along the way. Now the first "hike" should be interesting because BOTH of us managed to get sick with head colds this week so we may be taking it easy tomorrow. BUT we will still be hilarious and probably even more so because we are sick. So sit back, relax, and read, as we take you on a little journey we like to call, "The Hilarious Adventures of Robin and Val." :)

The "right" tattoo shop with the Rose-colored heart

I have never been the type of girl to stick with one thing for long. Massage therapy is my third degree. I have moved back and forth between three states. I guess you could say I have always been looking for something that just felt... right. So it's no shock to me that I haven't stuck with one tattoo shop either. I have never found a shop that just felt...right. Now, both massage and Colorado have worked in my favor for the past two years, so could I also find a tattoo shop where I could stay put for a while? Enter Fallen Owl Tattoo Studio...
 
A friend of mine wanted to get her first tattoo and she wanted to see someone get one before she got hers. Enter her good friend who is always game for another tattoo. *raises hand* And since she has this healthy "obsession" with owls (and every review we had read was good), we decided to waltz into Fallen Owl one Saturday afternoon in January of 2012. We were immediately greeted with smiles (yep, smiles) and were told that we were in luck because Freddie just had a cancellation and could take us both. Coincidence? I think not...

I got my Venus flower/star on my right forearm first, and to say the whole experience from consult to stencil to application (the needling part) was a pleasant experience is a severe understatement on my part. Tattoo artist Freddie Arroyo was beyond friendly and accommodating, but would also tell you if something wasn't going to work on a certain body part or the design wouldn't work. Even though the tat went on one of my very resilient forearms (I AM a massage therapist after all), I could also tell that he had a very light hand. The fact that I was comfortable with him and Fallen Owl right off the bat just made it that much easier for the friend of mine to jump on the table right after me. And her experience was equally as pleasant.

But it wasn't just Freddie and his vibe. It was the whole vibe of Fallen Owl that had the friend of mine and I sold from the minute we walked in. Beforehand, I had read some online reviews and no one was talking bad about this tattoo shop. I thought, what makes this shop so special that everyone is singing their praises on EVERY review? Well, I got my answer after walking in there myself. The answer is ... everything.

Everything about this shop makes it special and a step above your stereotypical or "normal" tattoo shops. Shop owner Adam Rose definitely knew what the hell he was doing when he opened this shop almost three years ago. And if you know him at all, you know he put his whole heart and soul into this shop. From the decor to the vibe to the energy that pulses through this small Lakewood, CO, shop, the whole thing is...Adam. And talk about someone who loves what he does...Try finding a picture of him tattooing where he doesn't have a big-ass grin on his face. And that smile and laugh are definitely contagious, which makes for the insanely positive vibe of Fallen Owl.

Oh, and did I mention that they do charity work as well? They had their Sh%ts and Giggles fundraiser over the summer, where they had all of their artist friends paint toilets seats and they auctioned them off for charity. And if you have to have me explain that one to you, you probably shouldn't be reading this blog...

Right now, there is a week left in their Tattoos for Toys fundraiser, which benefits their Colfax Avenue neighbor, The Action Center. Bring in three unopened toys to help out underprivileged kids during the holidays and Fallen Owl will give you a $40 gift certificate toward your next tattoo. This is the second year they have done this fundraiser and, while most Denverites are bringing the toys into the shop, they also have people mailing them in from as far away as Hawaii. And while, yes, they want to help out the kids, most people are doing it because they LOVE this shop and its artists and would do anything to help them. Because their clients love and care about them like they are members of their own families. They probably see them more often than they see their own families. I know I do. :)

And if all of their clients feel the same way I do, they keep coming to Fallen Owl because it just feels...right. From the vibe to the artists (Side note: Paul and Sherley are also artists there. Both are incredible, just wrote about the two who are always around when I am. Haven't met the other two yet. :)) to Tattoos for Toys, Fallen Owl is defying tattoo shop "standards". You don't always get a smile or the best customer service when you walk into a tattoo shop. With this one, you do. I always get a huge smile on my face every time I walk into the shop, which is usually accompanied by a hug from either Freddie or Adam, if they are not in the process of tattooing. I can honestly say that I will continue to get artwork from the artists at Fallen Owl as long as I live in the state of Colorado. And I feel very lucky and thankful that my friend and I stumbled into this tattoo shop that just felt...right.



***Tattoos for Toys runs through December 1st, 2012. Bring your three (or more) unopened toys into Fallen Owl Tattoo at 8789 W. Colfax Avenue, Lakewood, CO 80215. Visit www.fallenowltattoo.com to check out the artists' portfolios or call (303) 232-1350 to schedule your next tattoo with one of their amazing artists! ***

"Once I had a halo, but then it caught on fire..." and  my Celtic dragon. Tattoos by Freddie Arroyo

The red couch that greets you when you walk into the lobby, along with a stuffed owl and a skull in the display case. :)

This year's donations for Tattoos for Toys and the pile keeps growing! 

My Venus star/flower. First tattoo at Fallen Owl and done by Freddie Arroyo

To all of the people who have affected my life "for good"...

"I've heard it said

That people come into our lives

For a reason

Bringing something we must learn

And we are lent to those

Who help us most to grow

If we let them

And we help them in return

Well, I don't know if I believe that's true

But I know I'm who I am today

Because I knew you." 

From the moment I first heard this song ("For Good" from the musical Wicked), I knew it was going to be something I quoted for years to come. Especially during this time of my life. I have been realizing lately that people really do come into your life when you need them the most. And for some reason, when that happens, it's like it was meant to be all along. Even if your paths had crossed a long time before or at a different time in your life, some people were just meant to be in your lives...forever. And over the course of the last year and a half or so, I have had many people that have resembled that in my life and I thought I would take a moment to recognize some of them...

* Like my friend-turned-roommate, whom I met back in college and we really weren't that close, but somehow when we reconnected a few years back, I can't imagine not having her in my life. 

*Like my friend who was more like an acquaintance in high school than she was a close friend, but when we reconnected on Facebook, we found out that we both live in the same area, we both went to massage therapy school and we both love photography. 

*Like my ex-teacher from massage school, whom I see for energywork because she's amazing at what she does. But little did I know that she graduated from the same high school I did, just 25 years prior. 

*Like one of my favorite clients, who reminds me every session that "Trigger points are jerks", sarcasm is good, and an intuitive massage therapist is better than a practical one any day of the week.

*Like one of my new best friends. We crossed paths at Colorado State many years back and then, once again at Denver School of Massage Therapy, but we were merely acquaintances then. Then, a chance re-connection in the hallway outside of our massage therapist's office sparked a friendship that has spawned enough text messages, sarcasm and flat-out fun to keep us laughing and entertained for MANY years to come...

*And about that massage therapist... I had NO idea what I was in for a year ago when I asked him to work on me. I mean, I knew that he was an amazing structural bodyworker, but I wasn't nearly prepared for all the ways he has affected my life.  From Day One, he and I have been like kindred spirits. He's that person you feel like you've known your whole life, but haven't... He has managed to open up not just my body, but my mind and my heart as well. And for that, I will be forever grateful...

"It well may be

That we will never meet again

In this lifetime

So let me say before we part

So much of me

Is made of what I learned from you

You'll be with me

Like a handprint on my heart

And now whatever way our stories end

I know you have rewritten mine

By being my friend." 

To all of you who have left a "handprint on my heart", I love you all...

"Does that make us morbid...?"

Ok, so I'm starting to realize that people can bond over the most interesting things. Like cemeteries, for example. Yes, I said cemeteries. For the longest time, I always thought that my mom and I were the only ones who got this sick joy in going to visit cemeteries. She kind of got me into it when I was a kid and, I don't know, I've always had this fascination for them. I like seeing how long people have lived, like trying to figure out if it was some historical thing that they died from (i.e. WWI, WWII, etc..), like seeing everything that has been left on their graves. But I could never really pinpoint it until a friend of mine and I found out that we had the same fascination a few months back...


We were discussing what we did over the weekend and I mentioned that my mom and I had gone up to Central City to check out the old cemeteries, which Central City is known for and has some turn-of-the-century ones up there. I mentioned how I loved going to cemeteries and he mentioned that he did too. Now, through the course of our friendship, we have realized A LOT of random similarities with us so the fact that we shared this in common was not too surprising to me. But his answer was what DID surprise me.


Him: "Does that make us morbid...?"
Me: "Maybe...but I don't think it's morbid at all..." 
Him: "...because I think there is a certain beauty to them..."
Me: "...Oh, absolutely. I don't know how many pictures I took, trying to capture it. And the peacefulness and the energy...I mean, it's almost..."
Him: "...magical?" 
Me: " *deep breath* ...yeah..." 


Now, like I said, this is normal for him and I, but even we didn't realize that the two of us had that random/different thing in common. And it makes me wonder what other random things that he and I, as well as my other friends and I, have in common. You might have things in common with people you didn't expect to have things in common with, but if you take the time to get to know someone, you might actually find out. Get to know someone before you assume anything. You just might find a friend for life or one of your weird fascinations might be one of theirs too...

I loved the contrast...

There were sadly a lot of stuffed animals

"Queen of Central City's" grave

Once again, loved the contrast...