Summer, Skin and Heart
Canada agrees with me. Anything that spared me from the infernal heat of the Midwest this past July would agree with me, though, so maybe I’m cheating. It gets hot here, too, southern Ontario is south of big chunks of the US so it isn’t actually the Great Frozen Icefield in the North all the time. There are lakes and rivers and it gets muggy and then we went to Quebec and the bugz were very buggy indeed. And bite-y. Damn bugz.
It’s hot out today and on my walk through downtown for iced coffee (to ameliorate the headache that comes from running for only the second time in three weeks AND doing noon yoga with someone twenty years younger than I) there was a lot of flesh on display. Kids and their parents at the downtown spash park. I envied them, especially the naked toddlers screaming and running through the fountains. Our journey to Quebec involved a large lake, with only us in attendance; one of my baths was a glorious skinny dip in the sunlight–clothes should always be optional at lakes in the summertime and damn the bugs.
The toddlers aren’t the only ones running around naked, though. In the amazing parade of ink that is any city walk in the summertime, I have discovered a formerly unknown-to-me site for a tattoo: between a woman’s breasts. You might smirk at my leering glance but allow me to assure you that I have seen not ONE, but TWO inter-booble tattoos today, sported by women clad in tank tops and shorts. I thought I had spied a third (in a three-block walk!) when I realized that this enterprising young lady had her cell phone stashed there.
I did not get close enough to read or interpret these tatoos–I figure they are some sort of territorial marking for a mate, much as the phone is a way to keep those to whom you wish to speak closecloserclosest to your heart. They were both green though, in that generic tattoo-ionk-green sort of way. I wanted them to be red and blue and floral and amazing–a stamp of some sort of power or joy center in the heart. That did not appear to be the case, though. My wish for a bright, colorful and joyful inter-booble tattoo on others does not, however, mean that I wish one for myself. Nosiree. I will have to open my heart and project the joy and centered-ness without a visual clue.