It's Alright Doo Doo Doo Doo, Doo Doo Doo, Doo.

My husband and I spent yesterday evening's dinner discussing tattoos with my 17 year old stepdaughter. She hasn't decided yet what she is going to get. I thought my husband's head was going to explode. Given that her mother and her older sister are tattooed ladies, I think my husband gets that he actually has very little control over the ultimate outcome of this. I am also not sure why my husband's head didn't explode when she said that her 21 year old boyfriend has U.S.D.A. Prime tattooed on his ass. I am sure she knows this because he told her.

Anyway, the summer that I spent in California during university I was entirely convinced that I wanted a tattoo around my ankle that said, "Here Comes the Sun." That is, and always has been, my favorite song. One day that summer I walked the entire length of San Francisco looking for a tattoo parlor. It is only by the odd circumstance that I did not find a tattoo place in the Haight (and that smartphones had yet to be invented) that I am tattoo free today. And thank God. As much as I adore that song, what was I thinking?! A tattoo anklet? I blame the marine layer for even having the thought. My stepmother wears anklets. I am a stepmother. Let's leave it at that.

There have been so many times during the last year that I have heard that song and wanted to feel it. It did not yet feel like the ice was slowly melting, for me, for anyone. Every time some expert proclaimed the recession over, there was a parallel story about more jobless and benefits running out. The job boards were slow. Nobody I knew that was laid-off with me had found a job.

This Christmas, I started to hear stories on the news about people coming back to the stores. My practice groups website was posting new jobs daily, and my state bar's employment page was expanding daily as well. I have three (3), tres, drie, phone interviews next week. THREE.

Doo Doo Doo Doo, Doo Doo Doo, Doo.

Picture from thecurvature.com.