Decision Time

Heard about Rothbury? What? You haven't? Where have you been?! It's a ginormous festival in July including acts such as Widespread Panic, Phil Lesh and Friends, Modest Mouse, Gov't Mule, Primus, and the list goes on ad infinitum. By the way, "ginormous" was recently added to the Miriam Webster dictionary, and I've been dying to use it. And this festival is being held in *gasp* my home state of Michigan! It would seem that attending this festival would be a no-brainer. Well, that's what I thought, too. However, it seems my dear husband, Scott, is less than enthusiastic about me bringing our (by that time) 5 month month old baby. I don't see this as being an impediment, but he wants to be right in the thick of the action for many of the acts, and doesn't feel comfortable leaving me to stand on the sidelines with little Peach. So we've been going back and forth about this for the past month. Leaving Twyla with someone (like we would be doing with the other two) is out of the question at that age since she's exclusively breastfed, and the fact that being more than 50 feet away from my babies at that age causes intense physical pain and emotional distress.



So I came up with a possible alternative. Truthfully, I thought Scott would nix this idea; leaving me free to attend Rothbury while giving the appearance that I am willing to negotiate. Clever little wench, eh? I told him that the only way I would agree not to go would be if I could get the ginormous phoenix tattoo on my chest that I had been wanting for years. Now, Scott is totally on board with the idea of me *having* this tattoo- it's the thought of actually *paying* for it that he balks at. Being that it will probably cost a good bit more than the $250 for a ticket to Rothbury, I thought he would just give in and buy two tickets. Well, to my surprise, he agreed. Damn. Now I'm in a quandary. In the immortal words of the Clash: should I stay or should I go now?



I want that tattoo, I really do. I was just watching a Tribal Fusions DVD, and I know that if I ever strayed from Egyptian bellydance into the world of tribal fusion (as is quite possible at some point), that I would earn serious street cred with that tat. But right now, when it's still 35 degrees out, bummin' around a festival site with my baby in a sling while it's 80 and sunny is insanely appealing. Alas, what's a girl to do? I suppose I'll have to eviscerate a small animal and seek the answer in its entrails- what else?