Retro House Ink

I knew what I was supposed to say when The Chief started scribbling on my legs. In a voice that suspiciously doesn't sound like my own, I am supposed to say, "No, no dear. We don't draw on our bodies."

But sometimes motherhood is too sanctimonious for me. Sometimes I want to say just the exact opposite of what my inner matron is telling me to say. I want to reply to her, "Yes well I never really got that point anyway." Maybe I will someday, you know, but I am not there yet (as evidenced) in a lot of ways.

So this morning my legs became a palette for my son's artist expression. When there were requests for spaceships, cars, sharks, helicopters and the like, I couldn't twist my body enough to produce a satisfied image, we asked Dad to contribute.

I lounged and as they penned away--drawing The Chief's world of mobile things and bad guys with big heads. It relaxed me. It tickled.

I liked it.

p.s. I am going to see Dracula this weekend, directed by my brother Topher, featuring my husband Chup A. Cabre and many of their talented friends. I am already feeling weird and spooky and ready for the thrill.

(Melodramatics in the video by the inimitable Jake Suazo.)

Art and The Family. What more could you want?

I am c jane and can you spy Woody?
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