Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Markers are right up there with scissors and Silly Putty at my house.
They are anathema.
Actually, let me amend that.
Silly Putty is not allowed in the house. At all.
Twenty-seven times bitten, finally figured out to be shy.
Markers and scissors are supposed to reside in the upper reaches of the most out of the way cabinets in the house, making occasional appearances at Easter and Christmas.
But somehow markers made their way down to the kitchen table All By Themselves and were discovered by spelunking twins looking for a cure for afternoon boredom.
And so 8 of 8 opened his own tattoo shop. Right there in the kitchen.
I like his nod to the old school artistry, keeping his inks in the green tones.
What can I say? He is a Renaissance man, after all...