91

A 91-year old woman walks into a tattoo parlor. The beginning of a joke? No.

Badass. My double-half-mother-in-law (her son and daughter married my sister and brother, do the math) is turning 91 today. Some years ago she had a star tattooed for her first great-grandchild (so my great-nephew) and kept up the tradition with each new arrival. Number 12 and 13 arrived recently, so Leny visit the tattoo artist again the other day. For now. With the 8 productive grandchildren in this line (so: my nieces and nephews), there are likely to be more stars coming up. I bet by the time she turns 100, her whole arm will be full.

Badass. I’m proud to know her for some 50 years now!