Night Driving

My husband is my hero. Not only does he find amazing restaurants everywhere we go, but he drove all night from Hickory, NC to Pownal, VT. (He found a barbecue joint in Statesville, NC that had signed head shots of Ronnie Milsap and James Franco. How about that?)

My tattoo lady is Margaret Moose. I cannot tell you how pleasurable it is to say that I have a tattoo lady. She’s a wee bit older -- maybe in her fifties -- with long salt and pepper hair, glasses that she constantly pushes up, and three lifetimes worth of stories. She has my favorite Hokusai tattooed on her arms. It’s a woodblock print of some octopi lovin’ on a lady, called The Dream of the Fisherman’s Wife. I don't know what Hokusai thought women really wanted, but it's the first mass-produced cross-species image of sex that I know of. (Feel free to correct me there.) But going to the Mooser, It’s like getting a tattoo from an aunt who dropped out of polite society and now hangs out with other tattooed, pierced and bodily-decorated folk. Her tattoo space also doubles as a gallery, so she has art hanging in the spacious reception room, in opposition to most tattoo parlors that have framed versions of the tattoos you could get, random drawings, and pictures of large-chested women. When you go in the back room, there are paintings on the wall, Japanese paper screens and noh masks on the wall.  She has a table and chairs so if there is a person waiting for their friend or loved one, they can easily sit and chat. The Mooser is a great talker.

I also like Margaret because she does great Japanese tattoos, but there is more. When we met she asked what all tattoo artists ask: what do you want done? I told her I wasn't sure. I wanted cherry blossoms and koi. But I wanted the most beautiful Japanese tattoo she could do and she had my full back to work on it. It didn't phase her. She asked for some time and then drew it straight on my back. I love that she was inventive and open. That she realized I didn't want to dictate every aspect of the tattoo. I worked hard to find one of the best tattooists on the east coast and I wanted to set her free on my back. She was down with that.

From past experience I’ve learned I can sit for a solid three hours, four if I’m fidgety and have to take lots of breaks. For some reason, having food in your tummy makes it easier. The Mooser finished about most of the tattoo and I have just one sitting left! I'll be glad to have it done, but I will miss the visits to her shop.

Partly because it is the aftermath that is crazy. I don’t know if you’ve been tattooed, but there is an adrenaline rush about fifteen to twenty minutes into the tattoo. It hurts less, you feel more relaxed, kind of happy – all of that. Actually, these brain chemicals can be really addictive and that’s why some people keep going back for another tattoo here, and here and there. The Japanese call those sushi tattoos: lots of little pieces that don’t add up to anything. But back to the aftermath. Immediately after the needle is put down, I always feel like I am floating a bit. But then comes the crash, sleep that will not be put off or denied, followed by general crankiness and confusion.

Anyway, Christian saw that I was in no position to drive, despite being pleasantly stupefied. So he drove. And drove. And drove. He drove through the night. The whole night! And we arrived home the next morning. We’re slowly readjusting. We need some good sleep. When I drive at night my depth perception disappears and for some reason I also had double vision that night. I couldn't focus.

I’m back to gently rubbing in Aquaphor into the parts where the Mooser needled in more detail, which means I have a wardrobe of three shirts since the Aquaphor can get messy and sometimes my back is still inky/bleeding the first day or two. It's usually tender for a week or so. Let's all hope for some quick healing. I'll get pictures up shortly.