So here's the deal

The day before my surgery, Sylvie very solemnly came to me with a temporary tattoo - a star - and said she wanted to put it on me for good luck. She picked the  spot on my forearm and applied it very carefully. And it worked! 

In the three weeks or so following, I found myself protecting the temporary star on my arm in the shower, taking care not to rub at it, and smiling at it frequently. So... I made it permanent (with the help of an artiste named Dietsch). 

Here's the before and after. 

I couldn't replicate the original exactly... the red star being the symbol of international communism and all. But I am pleased with the final version. It still makes me smile. 

I have never been a tattoo guy. Never would have expected to have one. But what the heck. I didn't want to wash off my lucky star. 

For those who might wonder what ever am I going to say to a teenaged Sylvie when she inevitably comes to me with the "you have one" argument for applying some permanent art to her own body, my answer will be easy: if when she is forty she still feels strongly enough about some symbol to add it permanently to her body, then by all means, I won't stand in her way.