Creamy Confections

After being poked, prodded, squished, squeezed, “felt up”, greased up, and finally drugged and stuffed into an MRI machine, I can report that I get to keep my “girls” (though they’ll have to go through a similar rigmarole again next year). They deserved some TLC, so I went for my annual bra fitting.

It seems decadent, I know, to shop in a specialty store, but I honestly cannot buy any more bras “off the rack”. They don’t make my size. My rib cage is tiny and the rest of me, is not! Which explains all the years of tears and chocolate and self-loathing,  then more chocolate, every time I went bra shopping! It’s was a vicious cycle!

I developed early – Grade 5 to be exact (head of the class as usual) – and I was tormented because of it. The girls hated me because I had curves, and the boys just thought it was fun to snap my straps. I wasted spent years standing hunched up to make myself stand out less. And like any young woman, I wanted something lacy and pretty like the other girls – not Grandma’s “over the shoulder boulder holders”! In the 1980’s such things did not exist (or the 90s when I got my Education in Lingerie)…

They exist now, and with prudent shopping, one is not required to sell your kidney on the black market to afford it. I wandered around the tiny store like a kid in a candy shop. There were lacy petite-four confections everywhere in rich jewel tones and sweet pastels. I hardly knew where to begin!

The sales lady solved that problem when she asked the frightful question – what size are you?

Bra Size Fitting Chart

A = Almost Boobs
B = Barely Boobs
C = Can’t Complain
D = Dang
DD = Double Dang
E = Enormous
F = Fake
G = Get a Reduction
H = Help! I’ve fallen and can’t get up!


What I wanted was creamy Chantilly lace and dainty ribbon roses, but being ever practical (and having purchased racy red last year that required too much thought first thing in the morning when I was getting dressed), I had to stick to boring basics. As for options in my size, there were only 5…ranging in price from $60-to $200! Frankly, for $200, I expect there to be a lot to it! I wrangled my way into most of them before deciding on 2 that were on sale. Both have pretty lace, and one is even pink, my favourite colour! And they are very supportive! … Happy Weekend!

Wilderness Wednesday: High Flight

This week’s Wilderness Wednesday is compliments of Big Guy, who borrowed my camera for an evening flight with his grandfather and little brother.

My Dad started flying lessons in 1999. In fact, the summer of 1999 was a “summer of bucket lists”: Dad learned to fly; Hubby went white-water kayaking; Mom and I went on a 10 day tour in Europe!

I hope I can go back someday…especially now that I have a digital camera (and I don’t have to carefully contemplate the number of pictures I take so I don’t run out of film), and I have a slightly better idea of what I’m doing with my camera! :-)

Sunset from the sky

“Up, up the long delirious burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace,
where never lark, or even eagle, flew;
and, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
the high untrespassed sanctity of space,
put out my hand and touched the face of God.” – Pilot Officer John Gillespie Magee, Jr.

Making Stories

Forgive me, my child, if I have a little fun making up a back story for my little peg people when I am playing the board game, “Game of Life”. It’s because I live the game of life every day. I have lived through the milestones of post-secondary graduation (twice), a career, marriage and home ownership. I pay taxes and home insurance, and I’m often disappointed that there aren’t more “0s” at the end of my pay cheque. I have never won the lottery, found a cure for the common cold, or invented a new computer, but there’s still time…

In some “game lives”, I am a rock star like Janis Jopplin (only I said “no” to drugs) or an Olympic ski jumper with a debilitating fear of heights and 3 children named Sven, Gwen & Jenn (Sven, poor boy, had his father’s unibrow).

In Friday night’s game, I was a police officer. Shortly after graduation, I adopted a pet killer bunny named Peaches. Hubby rides in the back seat of the car so that my gun, Lucy (named after Lucy Lawless. Xena Princess Warrior), can ride “shotgun” in the front. My actual shotgun is in the trunk.

Big Guy, on the other hand, wrote a Great American novel, painted a Masterpiece and swam across the English Channel all before graduation. He also lost his big fat salary as an artist  just as he was buying his first home.

Little Guy was an athlete with a car full of children (must be all the testosterone). His pay was also cut at one point, probably because he fumbled the ball. He whined about it, but being a cop. I had no patience for excuses and told him to “take your 40K and think about what you did”!

Meanwhile, Big Guy’s only daughter had to attend summer school – she flunked gym. Consequently, he also had to buy a home gym, which set him back financially by quite a bit. I also experienced a brief period where my pay was severely cut – my gun, Lucy, went off like a shot, and grazed a woman with a great white whale-tail. I supplemented my income by writing a bestseller – I entitled it “Bad Cop, Bad Cop…What’cha gonna do?” I also won the game show, “Who’s Smarter Than a 5th Grader?” and invented a better mousetrap!

In the end, all the artwork the rest of us were forced to purchase helped Big Guy spend his last days in the millionaire mansion, while Little Guy and I (and Lucy, my faithful sidekick) retired to the seniors home.

Some days, our real lives can seem harebrained and humorous, and I am finding humour by letting my imagination go…and it’s exciting!

My dear child:

“You don’t just have a story – you’re a story in the making, and you never know what the next chapter’s going to be. That’s what makes it exciting.” – Dan Millman


I hate my hair! It’s no secret! Hubby has heard me declare that I was going to shave it all off more times that the number of hairs on his head (and his beard, and his chest – he’s a very hairy guy)! And no one would blame me if I did! I have been wrestling it into place for many years, a testament to the precarious grip I have on sanity!

Every school photo, I had the same look: dishevelled and neglected waif!

My mother tried. She really did. Some years she carefully rolled my hair into rags the night before Picture Day to make pretty curls. Other years she yanked it back into pigtails. But by the time I sat in front of the photographer, her hard work was undone. Curls with a life of their own; pigtails all askew. Stray wisps mocking her from the glossy pages.

It hasn’t improved with age.

When I started this blog, I wrote in my Raison D’Etre that I was going to get a funky new haircut, maybe a new colour too. But in the midst of trying to have a midlife crisis, I couldn’t quite bring myself to do it. Or rather, I couldn’t quite decide what to do. If I hadn’t figured it out in the previous decades, what were my chances now that I was writing about it?

And then last Summer, I bit the bullet. I booked the appointment. I searched the internet for a rockin’ look. That morning, I showered my long locks for the last time and headed out the door:

Long Hair

Note the reluctant grimace on my face and the fear in my eyes…

I knew it would take awhile to adjust to the new “do”. I had, afterall, removed a significant hank of hair during that appointment – 12 inches in fact. I was away from home at the time, so even Hubby had to wait a few days for the great unveiling.

The actual unveiling to Hubby did not go as planned! He never said he didn’t like it…but “what he did say built upon my rapidly diminishing ability to keep a stiff upper lip, and his words haunted me until bedtime…that hour when all reason slips away quietly, just like the setting sun. And faced with my reflection in the glare of the fluorescent bathroom lights, I could see the truth”.

This is how I responded:

“First, came the gentle weeping, the slow trickle of tears from the corners of my eyes. But like a summer storm, the heavens opened with a torrential outpouring of unreasonable sorrow. I breathlessly sobbed a cacophony of unintelligible words behind my hands. I knew Hubby was probably panicking, grasping for something to say while knowing fully that nothing was going to stem this flow. His wife had turned into a monstrous behemoth of volatile emotions, and he may or may not be partly responsible. (I’m pretty sure he was amused as well, so don’t feel too sorry for him). Like a banshee, I cried , “I just wanted to be pretty…this is where you’re supposed to say ‘you are pretty’…even if (repeating Hubby’s humiliating statement)”, which succeeded in making us both laugh, even as I was hiccupping into my damp pillow. I fell asleep hoping my pillow didn’t grow mould in the humid room as I slept.”

(To see the shameful after picture, click here. I’d just insert it here, but I’m hoping the 3 of you will be too lazy bored busy to actually go there!)

All this is leading up to yesterday… I actually rolled out of bed earlier than expected, so I decided to play with Little Guy’s blue hair gel…In theory, it looked great. In reality, it looked…crunchy! I could have toussled my hair with Elmer’s glue and it would have looked just as attractive. And having used up all my extra time, I had to head to work like that. And the chiropractor like that. And then home to bury my head under the pillows.

Thankfully it washed out and my hair isn’t crunchy anymore.

It’s also not blue. Or behaving in any sensible 40-year old way.

So much for my midlife crisis. Shaving it off is starting to sound good again!

Happy Weekend!

Wilderness Wednesday: There is a calm…

Helen Keller said, The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched – they must be felt with the heart”, and while I understand what she is saying, I still sometimes believe beauty can be touched. Last July, my Mom and I went for a walk in the community garden. My heart was heavy that day, but the sweet fragrances of summer, the rich colours and textures, even the coolness and weight of this little begonia, filled me with a renewed sense of peace and God’s presence.

 “There’s calm in each and every day, we just need to practice reaching out for it.”  – Ron Baratono

Orange Begonia

Happy Wednesday!

Weekly Photo Challenge: Creepy

They have stalked me in the bathroom. They have lain in wait in my purse. I have fought them off in the car on a 4 lane highway during rush hour. For years my father and Hubby have been the unsung heroes who have rescued me from them. Even my boss has had to “save” me from them. And when they take over the world, I’ll be doomed.

I have nothing to fear but fear itself…and spiders!

Spider-b/w photo

I can’t imagine anything creepier! Except maybe whatever is living in my carport…

spider web hole

To see more Creepy photos, click here.