I Need Protection Please. Are You Protecting Me?

My friend and ceramics teacher, Josh (who apparently reads this blog, and is hurt that I haven't given him the Waiting-for-the-J 15-seconds-of-fame yet, despite my undying love for him) (see what you've made me admit, Josh? I've gone and broken the Shy Girls' Crush Code), just had a birthday, and as a present to himself got his first tattoo. We've been spending the last couple weeks in class, after class, and outside of class hearing him talk about it, seeing the sketch ideas, getting excited for him ... and it's all brought forward the old itch to have one for myself. (By the way, his is pretty awesome ... and if he'll comment on this post and share a link with us, I'm sure we wouldn't mind one whit.)

For ages (since high school) I've thought that if I got a tattoo, it would be an eye of Horus on my upper right arm — I used to draw one there over a birthmark I have as an idle doodle. The style I specifically want I found a few years later at the NY Metropolitan Museum of Art:



Still tempting, though I guess the question is whether a) I can stand the pain, and b) how certain upper management at work will take it. I like to wear short sleeves, since my upper body gets warm easily, so it might be hard to keep it covered all the time.

In other news ... I started out my week with a kitchen accident:


This is what happens when you turn on the wrong burner in the morning before hopping into the shower. I was trying to boil the water in my kettle for coffee. Instead, I ended up melting a spatula and fusing it to the pan. It's stuck pretty strong, as you can see:



I'm holding up the heavy pan solely by holding on to that spatula. Yeah, I did a good job with that.

Offsetting that, I have a new addition to my inside garden wonderland. I won an orchid in the "Plants" giveaway that my office building does on a monthly basis (whenever they switch out the decorative plants in the lobby ... lately it's been orchids). Now I need your help! What kind of orchid is she:

and how the heck do I take care of her? Steph, I'm looking at you. Help me, Stephy Losti-moli. You're my only hope.

Unless someone else steps up to it.