Bloomin’ n struttin’

clydesdale

Time’s a cruel bastard.

Yeah – that’s right. I said it.

Time’s evidently decided to run at a full gallop in 2017, and passed me so quickly that it’s already been two weeks since the last AGMA post. Yikes!

When I was young, Time seemed to be extremely lazy and liked to lolly gag around. Like he had nothing else to do but to taunt me with possibilities beyond my reach. I thought I would never turn 16. Or graduate from high school. Or go be grown up enough to go on a date…

Louise, my sweet step-mother, in the midst of my late 1960’s teenage angst, used to tell me I was going to be a late bloomer. She was trying to comfort me on those many (most) Friday and Saturday nights I would be chilling at home or over at one of my girlfriend’s. And not 16. Or a high school graduate.

And definitely NOT on a date.

But she was right. As usual.

AGMA turned 63 last week. And miracles of miracles, I think, just maybe, I’m starting to bloom. Like one of those century plants that flowers every 100 years.

But it only took me 63.

It feels like, after so many long, tumultuous, crazy  years, I’ve finally – finally – started to hit my full stride. And gotten my sh*t together. Sorta kinda.

But seriously?

At this point, there’s a heck of a lot less time to stride than when I was angsting in my parents home in the 60’s.  A lot less time to show off my lovely sh*t.

Round about early January, I got this sweet notice from WordPress congratulating me on 3 years of blogging. “What?” I noodled, “I’m pretty sure it’s only been 2 years. It can’t be 3 years already. I couldn’t have lost a year in there right?”

I was wrong. WP was right. Show offs.

So I was at my local tattoo parlor last week…

Did you you hear that? I said I was at a tattoo parlor!

Yeah baby – the ink’s gonna happen in 2017!

Last week was the first round of the design phase. After a couple of years of indecision and the inability to commit to a design, suddenly it all became clear. It was like divine inspiration. I knew what I wanted and why I wanted it. And where…

I’m not a Pinterest person, but I filled up my Tattoo ideas board with 23 pins. Typical AGMA.

The guy at the tattoo place was really nice. The woman I want to actually do the tattoo wasn’t in yet, but Stan helped me pull together the ideas I had into one design. It’s not there yet but it’s a great starting place.

AGMA’s pretty excited.

Stan said something to me that really struck me. It was something practical like needing to be careful about something because it could cause the colors to fade over the course of time. And, before I even knew what was coming out of my mouth, I said, “Honestly, I probably won’t live long enough for that to happen.”

Stan kinda looked shocked. AGMA, the good time tattoo buzz killer.

I guess I’m feeling a little angry at being a century bloomer. It just feels like I’ve wasted a hell of a lot of time. Time that I will never, ever get back. A lifetime almost.

But then a wise person might say that I wasn’t ready; I hadn’t learned the lessons I needed to learn. Until now. So that makes now the perfect time.

To everything, there a season and all that crap.

And I remember Ken, my 58 year old friend who died suddenly in December with still so much life ahead of him.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, is guaranteed.

“To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.”   Macbeth by William Shakespeare, Act 5, scene 5, 19-28

I guess that decides it.

I’ll bloom whenever and wherever, strut my together sh*t whenever and wherever, for as long as I have.  And get my ink ASAP.

Watch for AGMA blooming and strutting this Saturday at the Women’s March on Washington.  I probably won’t make The Guardian this time, but then again, maybe I will!

My next post could be from the pokey (great word!) asking for a donation to my GoFundMe page for bail…