Dear Quarantine Diary #31

Tags

baking, covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, humour, shopping

Dear Diary – When was the last time I played in the leaves? Last Saturday!

With exceptionally beautiful weather and all my guys home, it was the perfect time to tackle the annual Autumnal Yard Clean-Up! While Hubby cleaned up the last of the tools from his carport project, the boys & I raked and bagged leaves.

I should have been more alert when I heard conspiratorial whispering, because Big Guy grabbed me and dumped me in a huge pile of leaves. They were dry and crispy, and sunny yellow as they closed over my face. I lay there for a moment, laughing and letting their earthy smell bring back memories of running and tumbling into piles of leaves, first with school mates, and later with my own little boys. Both boys tower over me now. We ran around tossing bunches of leaves in each others’ faces. I couldn’t fend them off as they shoved leaves down the back of my shirt. I was picking leaves and sticks out of my hair for the remainder of the day.

Once we had dealt with the leaves in the front yard, Hubby and Big Guy worked on trimming the hedge. It had received a haircut a few weeks earlier, but a “mohawk” ran down the centre, waving mockingly at me when I relaxed on the couch. The haircut required a ladder and climbing into the top of the hedge, but the job is done! My father also needs a hair cut in the beardal area, but he won’t let us get near him. I bet our hedge clippers could do the job!

Dear Diary – After a beautiful warm Saturday, we were hit with brutal winds and snow Sunday evening. By Monday morning, the trees were stripped bare, the yard was covered in snow, and the roads were covered in ice. My friend was frozen solid.

On Monday, I ran away from home. Why? Because…

Girls just wanna have fun, oh girls just wanna have fun

Dad was away hunting (again) this week so I spent some time with my Mama. This was the first year that Dad has hunted for two weeks, for moose and deer. He rarely even sees any deer. One year, when he called Mom mid-week from a pay phone, he asked us to “stop praying for the deer”.

Mom usually visits me and we’d go Christmas shopping, but with my tiny home housing a school and office, and my spare room in a mess, it wasn’t practical. And even I don’t want to shop in my area!

Despite sliding my luggage (and business supplies) to the car, my trip was uneventful for a change. It wasn’t uneventful for the folks whose RV was on fire on the other side of the highway.

How do 2 ladies pass the time during a pandemic? First, we went grocery shopping, and we binged on HGTV!

I also picked up some much needed socks!

On Tuesday morning, we shared one screen for our online Bible study. I had to keep us muted because we sometimes got a little rowdy! Who said studying the kings and prophets would be boring? We hit the “city” for the afternoon: Fabricland (nothing says adventure like 100% cotton Christmas prints), Michael’s (to look at shiny things) and then….we really threw caution to the wind…we went to the Mall. We barely ventured in the door, but still, I bought a dress and we people-watched in the food court with a cup of Tim’s. We even shared a doughnut! We spent the evening cutting patterns and flipping between the American election and a Jane Austen movie.

Wednesday morning, I made crostoli della nonna, and I didn’t burn the house down! Dad showed up unexpectedly at dinnertime and joined us for our “girls’ dinner in” which included my aunt, and we played card games.

He never saw a creature bigger than a breadbox, unless you count the hunter who asked for directions. Half an hour after that, he had 2 more hunters wander by…looking for their lost friend! Oh dear! Dad also tracked a deer to the edge of a cliff… I’m pretty that deer was a decoy. They’re smarter than the hunters!

This morning, the plan is to make salvation doughnuts, and I’m seriously considering going AWOL today and not heading home until Friday. I have to restock the fridge; I don’t want my guys to starve!

Keep calm and be crazy, laugh, love and live it up because this is the oldest you’ve been and the youngest you will ever be again. American Hippie

Dear Quarantine Diary #10

Tags

baking, covid-19 humour, dear diary, humour, shopping

Dear Diary – I survived groceries in the city. We live in a “hot zone” but there were no sterilizing stations for the carts. And, as expected, most people were not wearing masks or gloves, and some were completely oblivious to their surroundings. Even though the aisles had signs, people were wandering the wrong way in the “one way” lanes. By people, I should say women…women talking to other women in person or on the phone, or women so absorbed in their cell phone grocery list! I shopped where I don’t usually shop and therefore forgot a few items and had to double back. With the one-way aisles, I felt like a mouse trapped in a maze. I managed to come home without something but now I forget what I forgot. Oh well!

By the time I got home, washed and put everything away, I was exhausted. I spent the rest of the day trying to contact my friend so I could deliver her groceries. I dropped them off the next day but not with the Tim’s she requested. I’m not going anywhere I don’t have to. Even to Tim’s. It’s a sad, sad world.

The problem with the world is the intelligent people are full of doubt, while the stupid people are full of confidence. – Charles Burkowski

Dear Diary – This past weekend was my last chance to bake before Summer temperatures forced us indoors, huddling by a fan, waiting for the A/C to run again. On Saturday, I baked lemon meringue pie, from scratch. I used a crust recipe from a tried-and-true baker. I only had to make one emergency call to Mom because I knew my pastry was not right. It’s still not right and half of it is in the freezer because by the time I was done rolling out enough for one pie, I was done! How did my Grandmother bake 2-3 pies a day!!?? The lemon curd went smoother than expected, and the meringue was the prettiest cloud I’ve made. It tasted as good as it looked. Which was a nice change!

It wasn’t even cool before we got into it. No time for staged photos!

On Sunday, I decided to try Beth’s Foolproof French macarons with raspberry buttercream icing. I knew not to let the title fool me – just because it says “foolproof” doesn’t mean I won’t find a way to screw it up. I have managed to navigate nary a “foolproof”, “no-fail” recipes into complete disasters. I even have the crime-scene photos to prove it. Most of the cookies turned out really well and I could eat a bucket of the raspberry buttercream. I say “most” because I accidentally grabbed wax paper instead of parchment paper and those 12 cookies were permanently welded to the paper.

Don’t worry Mom – I saved you some!!

Dear Diary – We have a senior citizen bumblebee living in our yard. I frequently catch him just hovering in the air over the patio, between the porch and the lilac tree. Is he trying to remember where he’s been or where he’s going? After a minute, he’ll dart off in one direction. Within 10 seconds, he’ll dart off in the opposite direction.

I guess we’re all entitled to a senior’s moment.

Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter. Mark Twain

Dear Diary – For years, in an effort to instill a love of reading, Little Guy had to read every evening as part of his homework. Well the education system’s plan has backfired! He has to do a book report for his English class and he’s been dragging his heels for weeks. It’s due next week and he’s only halfway through the book and over confident that he can complete the assignments without having to read it all. I’m doubtful.

Too bad he’s too old for Captain Underpants. Those were books he’d read  over and over again. Tra la la!

Dear Diary – Hubby made an observation this week. When it’s 10C outside, our next door neighbour walks around the back yard shirtless. Now that it’s 30C (40 with humidity), he’s walking around the backyard wearing a sweater and a winter hat. I get hot flashes just looking at him, and not in a good way.

Have you ever watched someone and thought, “I wonder who ties your shoelaces?

Graduation

Tags

graduation, humour, shopping

I’ve decided I like shopping a whole lot more when there isn’t a special occasion coming up. When there’s the pressure of a deadline, suddenly there’s nothing that I like, in my size.

Little Guy was going to graduate from Gr. 8,  and we  both needed something to wear.

When Big Guy graduated many moons ago, the expectations were a shirt, dress pants and a tie. I’m not sure that’s enough any more. I have heard other Moms of recent grads mentioning tux rentals, limo rentals and the need for the right pair of ridiculously expensive shoes. It seems the significance of the milestone is overshadowed by the name brands and photo ops.

Little Guy is a no-fuss kind of guy, which is good because as much as I love him and wish to shower him with good things, I’m not spending my life savings. These clothes will be worn for an hour in a hot banquet hall, followed by dinner (which he’ll probably end up wearing), and a dance, (where the girls dance in a cluster while the guys try hard to ignore them).

Even though I “pre-shopped” to eliminate dragging him from store to store, there was still a great deal of gnashing of teeth on the way to the Mall. Little Guy was super unimpressed that I was cutting into his time to “relax”. Like I had nothing better to do with my time?

We went to the Bay. I don’t like the Bay. The prices are high, the choices are slim, and the racks a mess! The suit jackets and pants were not together, and most didn’t match. The hanger size-tag didn’t match the tag on the item. Our options were Calvin Klein or Ralph Lauren. Gasp.

He snarked. He sighed. He rolled his eyes. He dragged his feet as he trailed me to the change room, with an aura of disgust about him dark enough to blot out the sun. Then he locked himself in the change room, and I sunk into an orange plastic chair that was splattered with something brown and sticky.

Hubby called to see how it was going. I think he sensed the despair even before I said “hello”. He was kind enough to look up some addresses for me for men’s stores, so we bought a white shirt and black pants, and headed out.

So if you should ever doubt
Wonder what love was all about
Just think back and remember dear
Those words whispered in your ear
I said, True love.
– Madonna

The silence in the car was palpable, broken only by a snarled “I just want to go home”. “I know,” I huffed, “and at least you’ve had something to eat”.  Then I took a different track. “I love you and I just want you to feel good. This is an important moment in your life, one you’re going to remember”. Meanwhile I was wondering if all he’d remember was being forced to shop against his will.

Dear Teen – it’s not always fun being your parent either. I secretly roll my eyes behind your back too. Love Mom

I glared at him through the driver car window. No way was I going in this men’s store alone. He shuffled slowly behind me, shoulders hanging low in defeat. Within 5 minutes, he was skipping back to the car with a big, goofy grin. I’m not sure if he was happier that we found a vest or the fact that we were done and heading home!

Last night, we celebrated! And he looked good!

Just in case I don’t make it through this thing they call parenting, can I get my straight jacket in pink?

 

What’s In My Cup: Gaba Guava

Tags

#whatsinmycup, food, shopping, tea, what's in my cup

Yesterday was Mother’s Day, and I had ordered something for a gift for our ladies at church. But…the package wound it’s way from Seattle to California and back to Vancouver…before it started winding it’s way cross-country. It wasn’t going to arrive in time. Friday afternoon, I put Plan B into action and I went shopping!

Have you ever wondered what 100 tea sachets look like?

I will never have this much tea in my house at one time, and yes! I had to exercise a lot of self-control. Since I was already at the store, I also treated myself to a cup of the Tea of the Day, which happened to be a new flavour, Gaba Guava.

This is a fruity, tropical tea, with a low caffeine rating. It contains green and gaba green tea, as well as guava, pineapple, apple, papaya, coconut rasps, orange peel, orange blossoms, red currants, and safflower blossoms. Honestly, it reminded me of hot Five Alive but with a strong grapefruit flavour. While gaba green tea is purported to have multiple health benefits, I am willing to try it again in the summer as an iced tea.

Gaba stands for gamma-aminobutyric acid, a neurotransmitter naturally occurring in our brains. It assists information travel more efficiently and accurately to our brain. It’s been credited with lower stress levels, improved sleep and reduced depression and anxiety. Some teas, like oolong, naturally have high levels of gaba, while others are processed in a high-nitrogen, oxygen-free environment during oxidation. 

Guava fruit also has health benefits because it’s rich in antioxidants, vitamin C, potassium, and fiber. It can aid heart and digestive health, help balance blood sugar, and boost immunity. Guava  may also be good for your skin  – and that’s something every mother could use!

Beautiful skin requires commitment, not a miracle. – Erno Lazlo

Happy Monday!

Confessions of a Tea-aholic

Tags

#whatsinmycup, shopping, tea

I like tea. That’s no surprise to anyone who knows me or who has been hanging around here for more than 5 minutes. I have 9 teapots and a large variety of teas to fill them. Also, not a surprise! The question I get asked all the time is – how much tea do you have?

In the Spring of 2017, when I hosted a dinner party for fabulous ladies, I prepared a Tea Menu. I thought that would be easier than trying to rattle it all off or drag it all out. There were only 36 on the list (but a few more I selfishly kept in the cupboard.)

This Spring I counted. At home, I now have 55 (there are 2 tea chests in that pile).

At work, there are 14.

So just how did I end up with SO much?

• some were given to me as gifts – birthdays, Christmas, etc. Just two weeks ago, 9 were given to me by a friend whose daughter-in-law works for the company, Steeped Tea and was clearing out some of her inventory.  More tea parties for boss and me!
• some were given to me when other tea-aholics cleaned out their cupboards. My hoarding instincts took over and I said “yes” to it all – No tea bag is left behind.
• some flavours are a single tea bag. Every. bag. counts!
• Quality vs. quantity. I have a lot…not all of it is high quality.
• I went shopping and I needed wanted a little treat. Tea doesn’t have calories like chocolate eclairs.
• It was on sale. A few weeks ago, I bought 3 cannisters of tea at David’s Tea because it was buy 2, get one free. (In case you’re interested, I bought Forever Nuts, Cinnamon Rooibos Chai, and Cardamom French Toast!)I confess, it’s an exorbitant number. None of my justifications are strong arguments.  They cut into my limited storage space, and many will go stale before I have a chance to consume them. Which means I should get busy and put the kettle on (because my birthday is coming). Happy Monday!

Shopping is actually very similar to farming a field. You can’t keep buying the same thing, you have to have a bit of variety. Otherwise you get bored and stop enjoying yourself. – Sophie Kinsella, Confessions of a Shopaholic

 

I feel invisible…

Tags

humour, shopping

Sometimes I feel invisible, and I’m talking literally, not figuratively.

I went to Wal-Mart last night. Three times in fact. Once for a few groceries and Canada Day t-shirts for Hubby’s “Spirit Day” at work. All the shirts were gone but I found gaudy red Canada Day backpacks for $5! The second trip – to submit 5 years worth of photos to finish an album on the weekend, and a few groceries. But the photos were still on my desktop. The third time, to print the photos from my memory stick. I’m not going back a fourth time!

It happened on the way home from the third (and final!) trip. Envelope in hand, I walked toward the exit, fully expecting the sliding glass door to swish open. The door had other plans.

You cannot pass! – Gandolf, Lord of the Rings

I nearly walked into it.

Stunned, I took a few steps back and tried again. It still didn’t open. I looked around. At that rare, singular moment in history, there was no one around. No one coming in. No one going out. In Wal-Mart. It was spooky!

I should have applied the old expression: Fool me once – shame on you. Fool me twice – shame on me.

I didn’t! I tried a third time.

In retrospect, I should have just tried the other door. Instead, I waved my arms in the air like I was desperately trying to fly. I put my left foot…I put my left foot out…I did the hokey-pokey and I turned myself around. Still…

Black Knight: None shall pass!
King Arthur: I have no quarrel with you, good Sir Knight. But I must cross this bridge.
Black Knight: Then you shall die.
**Monty Python & the Holy Grail

All the insecurities in who I am, all the existential questions about my purpose rose to the surface, and I refused to be bested by a door! I was, after all, a valuable human being. I had feelings, hopes, dreams, even the potential to change the world. I deserved to be seen and heard. I was NOT invisible.

So I mustered all that pent up rage and insecurity, and with hands on hips, I glared at it. If invisibility was my new superpower, maybe I had other superpowers?!?

And as I glared, a dumpy middle-aged in short cut-off denim shorts and a stained white t-shirt that didn’t cover his pasty white beer belly, strolled by. He didn’t even glance my way.

And the door swished open…

I may be in the next People of Wal-Mart video.

Happy Weekend!

One (jagged) Little Pill

Tags

cheese, humour, shopping

I have often wondered if cheese would be the death of me. I have always assumed its awesome gooey goodness would clog my arteries and I would be snuffed out suddenly by a heart attack. I never thought cheese could nearly result in my death through starvation.

On Saturday morning, I set my alarm just so I could do some Christmas shopping at the mall before the parking lot swarmed with idiot drivers. No such luck! I knew it would be dangerous, but I also knew that the closer it gets to Christmas, the more dangerous it will become.

I dressed lightly. I packed lightly. I wore comfortable shoes. I mapped my route in my head, and armed with my list, I entered the fray. I shopped.

After two and a half hours of price comparisons, strategic planning, and browsing, I was fatigued. It was time to refuel before the final push. I made my way through the congested corridor to the cramped food court at the far end of the mall, and lined up for my juicy cheeseburger. I bought my cheeseburger and after 5 minutes of aimlessly wandering the perimeter, I scored a tiny table for two. My whole body ached. My blood sugar was so low I was positively giddy. I unwrapped my burger and inhaled deeply…

I could have cried like a 2 year old at my tiny table in the middle of the food court, frantically rifling through my purse for Lactaid. After Little Guy was born, this bona fide cheese devotee became lactose intolerant. One (jagged) little pill stood between me and my cheeseburger!

The nearest drug store was at the other end of the very large mall.

So, I wrapped my steaming burger in an empty blue Best Buy bag and hightailed it. I practically ran down the hallway, expertly weaving between strollers and blank-faced teens staring at their cell phones. I tore into the drug store, scanning the overhead signs. Aisle 5 – “Incontinence” and “Seasonal” – I hope they aren’t related, but that’s a it seemed like a good place to start. Nope!

I startled the pharmacy assistant with lovely brown, “doe” eyes. She must have sensed my urgency and grabbed the pharmacist, who led me straight to my quarry.

One cashier was open and she was knee-deep in a complication return. Seven other people waited impatiently in line. I dashed back to the pharmacy, startling the assistant again and blurted out, “can you please ring me through? I just want to eat my cheeseburger…it’s in my bag!” I could feel tears starting to well up in my eyes.

***

I skipped from the store, catching a jealous look from the guy I kept passing in the aisles of the drug store ealier. And I collapsed on the nearest bench. I popped open my pill bottle and chewed up my one. little. pill. And I ate my cheeseburger right there in the middle of the mall, as wan-faced passersby stared and salivated.

Sesame bun. Crisp lettuce. Salty bacon.  Beef patty. Gooey cheese.

***

After I wiped my mouth and leaned back, sated, I realized I now had a new problem…I needed to pee and the nearest bathroom, was at the far end of the mall…right next to the food court.

Spackle for Dummies

Tags

home renovations, humour, shopping

I stood there, staring into the dark brown eyes of a 20 year old boy, and my heart was sinking. Those eyes were vacant. I was in trouble.

We were down to one car on Saturday, (Hubby’ car was in the shop all weekend) and I was already running late for an appointment. With Little Guy in tow, I had raced into Home Depot and expertly tracked down the first customer service representative to cross my path.

I was on a mission. I needed spackle, and I just needed someone to tell me where to look for it.

Instead, I found this poor overgrown boy in an orange apron, with a “deer in the headlights” expression in his eyes. He didn’t move. In fact, he looked like he was barely breathing. Clearly I had overwhelmed him with my simple request.

It isn’t the first time I’ve had a strange encounter with a salesperson whose brain hamster was running on a wheel but not generating much electricity.

It turns out that he wasn’t blanking on where to direct me…he just didn’t know what spackle was. I explained that we needed to fill nail holes in a wooden block.

“Oh, you mean plaster?” So close, sweetheart.

Eventually…after multiple descriptions and explanations (with hand gestures)…

…and I made it to aisle 11. But I still couldn’t find what I was looking for, so I nabbed Earl. At first, he insisted they didn’t sell spackle. so once again, I carefully and slowly explained what I was trying to do. What kind of home improvement store doesn’t sell spackle? And then…

Earl directed me to an entire shelf rife with possibilities!

I chose the spackle “for dummies “…the kind that goes on pink and turns white when it’s dry enough to sand (wish they did this with make-up). Somehow, after my experience, that just seemed like the most appropriate kind to buy!

***

This is a 10 minute Monday post (written on Tuesday)…the object is to write for 10 minutes-no editing & no wasting time agonizing over word. Just writing for the fun of writing!

Canadian Black Friday (a.k.a. Misery)

Tags

fashion, humour, shopping

How do you block the terror out… when it’s already invited itself in?

I went shopping with my Mom last Saturday (which was, according to the stores’ signs, “Canadian Black Friday”). Our goal was to shop the big sale in one of our favourite stores before heading over to visit my Grandmother.

We were greeted at the door by a cheerful sales representative at the door. She was 5’4”, in her 50s with short red hair. She wore black pants and a floral top in classic Fall colours. The colour suited her; the size did not. By all other appearances, she was normal.

She asked if she could “help us”, and we told her we were “just looking”, and continued chatting as we slowly moved from rack to rack. She followed us, jumping into and monopolizing our conversation. It was strange, however, she was friendly and clearly enthusiastic about their product and we let her prattle away. That was probably our first mistake.

She overheard my comment that I liked some of the clothes with a peacock feather print. That was our second mistake. She then proceeded to show me every single item that had a peacock print…and then some. Like jackets – even though I said I don’t wear jackets. And if I happened to escape sneak away, she would hold things up and get my attention by yelling across the store.

Mom and I tried splitting up. We thought that without conversation or comments to “feed her”, she’d become bored with us and latch onto someone else. It almost worked! She did start a conversation with a wizened lady with a walker. Our plan failed, however, when we came together again to compare notes on what we have seen (our third mistake) and another young sales rep. approached us. She barely finished asking “can I help you?” before her face turned pasty white, her eyes widened and she quickly backed away from us. A chill ran up my spine and I knew…she was right behind me! I was like Paul Wilkes in Misery, and she was “Annie Wilkes”.

We ignored our better instincts and discarded the “never leave a man (or woman) behind” rule, in order to take turns chatting with her so the other could shop unmolested. That was our fourth mistake. If we zigged, she zagged. If I touched the hem of a skirt, she would swoop in to ask me if I wanted to try it on. I distinctly remember mouthing “help me” more than once, as Mom circled around me. “Annie” was slowly draining our physical and emotional resources!

The mistakes started piling up fast. We started grabbing selecting items to try on, which bought us some time as she ran back and forth between us and the dressing rooms. But when it came time to try our selections on, we couldn’t identify our rooms. That’s because “Annie” had become our personal shopper and had added a few items to our collection – skirts, tops, purses, necklaces and jackets.

I thought I was safe in the dressing room; instead I was trapped. She kept bringing me more items to try on. She kept asking about sizes. By the time my boots and pants had come off and on several times (I had to be polite and try everything), I was light-headed and sweaty, and starting to panic.

Then my mother asked the unthinkable – was I decent? Could I come out and give her an opinion on the pants she was trying on? By that point, I was dressed in my own clothes again, sitting on the footstool in the fetal position, gently rocking. I knew…I knew that if I stuck my nose out that door, I would be assaulted by a barrage of questions. And I was correct. As soon as she saw me, she practically ran from the front of the store to the back. I admit that I failed as a daughter, nay a human being! I offered Mom my opinion and ducked back into the safety of my cubicle, leaving her in “Annie’s” clutches.

Once it had grown eerily quiet, I gathered my wits about me. I decided the only person who should cause a 40+ woman to cower in her dressing room is an over-bearing mother (or mother-in-law), and I don’t have either one. It was time to put on my Big Girl Panties…and run for my life! I was prepared to use all the tactics I had learned playing hours of Halo – even a melee with my elbow – if it meant getting out alive!

I yelled to Mom that I was heading out. Then I grabbed the sweater, the one item I wanted to buy and focused on the mission – the check-out counter. Mom was close behind me. “Annie” moved fast; I moved faster. I dodged more hangars (and questions) and stayed on task. I bought my sweater.

I left that store with my pocketbook intact, my dignity restored, my sweater bagged, and my Mom…

Mom almost didn’t make it, but the Manager recognized the look of fear in her eyes and saved the day. We fled with our bags clutched in our hands, heading to Tim Horton’s for a restorative cup of tea, and we never looked back!

Why didn’t I just flee the store once she joined our party and started dogging our every step? I’ll tell you why…Canadian Black Friday sale!

***

“Everyday you need a bulletproof vest
To save yourself from what you could never guess!” – Skillet, Rise

Creamy Confections

Tags

chocolate, fashion, humour, shopping

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!

Photo courtesy of http://www.1-800-bakery.com/Desserts/Petits_Fours

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!