Wonky Weather and a Bra Tip

I haven’t been very bloggy lately.  I don’t know where all my time is going.  I’ve been looking for it, but I can’t find it anywhere.  (Could be in the boy’s hellhole bedroom, but I’m certainly not going in there to look for it.)  Some of my time has been sucked up by a few curriculum committees I’ve been working on for school.  I get paid for my work, which is, of course, a good part of the reason that I volunteered allowed my arm to be twisted to be on these committees, but the hours I’ve put in are more than I bargained for. 

I’ve also been trying to clean and organize around the house (to set a good example for the boy, who really doesn’t seem to be picking up on my hint.  He says things like You clean every day.  You should just relax and take it easy.  I think it’s his way of saying Be a pig like me and live amidst your garbage.  It’s easy!)

Another chunk of time has been spent on knitting the pink Check Your Boobage scarf.  I’m getting there.  It’s more than 3/4 of the way done.  My fingers are getting itchy to start something new.  I’m such an A.D.D. knitter.  No stick-to-it-tiveness.  I have to bargain with myself to finish this scarf.  Ten more rows and you can have popcorn.  Six more rows and you can go pee.  It’s the only thing that works for me.  I’m proud to tell you that I showed the scarf to three of my Relay for Life teammates and have committed myself to raffling it off.  I’m a good girl, despite what you may have heard.

Thankfully, I’ve been able to keep track of the days of the week, and I made it to the library on Tuesday night to knit with the group started my knitting-blind-date-friend (although I was about a half hour late because I was a little slow to realize it was Tuesday.  Oops.). 

I was also late to Thursday SnB last night.  My tardiness, however, was not due to lack of day-of-the-week-awareness.  It was the weather.  Some very nasty weather.  At 6PM, I was just about to walk out the door to head to SnB when the mother hen my sister, Kathy*, called to warn me about the weather.  I had the TV news on, but I wasn’t paying a whole lot of attention.  There was a severe thunderstorm warning as well as a tornado warning for my area.  At that point, the scary part of the storm was a few towns away from me – and heading in my direction.  Hmmm.  Thought I should stay home until the bad stuff passed.  I didn’t want to leave the boy alone.  More phone calls came from my mom and my sister, Kim (who was on her way to SnB, but turned around and headed back home) and I assured everyone that I was staying put.

*Kathy is a mother hen in the best possible way.  She looks out for all of us.  She’s a goodie and we love her.

It started to get really dark and windy, and the lights started to flicker.  My never-was-a-boy-scout-but-could-have-been boy went into the kitchen to grab candles and matches.  Then . . . it was as if the angels above the clouds were cleaning up after their summer picnic and dumped their coolers of half melted ice cubes right onto our roof.  The noise was unbelievably loud.  We kept turning up the TV so we could hear Geoff Fox tell us if we were about to fly off with Dorothy and Toto, and when we were on max volume, we had to sit on the floor in front of the TV screen.  At one point, I grabbed the camera in an attempt to take pictures of the hail, but I wasn’t very successful.  The rain was beating down on the windows and the sliding glass door.  When I tried to open the slider, I quickly realized that it was a pretty dumb move.  I got a face full of water and wind through the screen.   This photo of the deck was taken through the glass when things had started to calm down a little.

There’s a melting pile of hail in the corner, but take note of the big ball of ice near the bottom right corner of the picture.  Yowza.  When the hail first came down, the ice balls were the size of marbles.  That big ball was the size of . . . well . . . a big marble.  A jumbo. 

After the storm eased up and it just seemed like regular rain, I headed to SnB.  No easy task to get out of my neighborhood.  The semi-main road was flooded, with a car stuck in the middle of the pool of water.  The side street I usually take to side-step the traffic was also flooded, with a tree in the middle of that pool.  I tried another route that headed up hill.  Clear.  Until I turned the corner and there was a huge tree across the road.  Finally found a way out and things were so much better after I headed out of Milford.

(Today, I heard this on the news.  Another yowza.  They’re talking about where I live.  I live there.  Not just that I live in Milford.  I live in the exact spot in Milford where they think there could have been a tornado.  Creepy.  Things are calm today, but as I sit here the sun is shining at the back of the house and it’s pouring down rain in the front.  Wonky weather.) 

SnB was fun and afterward. five us headed to the restaurant next door for drinks.  (Make mine a peach martini, please.)  We yucked it up with some should-have-kept-our-voices down conversation which led to the talk of bras.  (There has been much boobtalk amongst our group lately.  Check out this, this, and this.)  We grumbled a bit about the cost of bras and how hard it is to find the right bra.  (We may have stumbled into this thread of conversation after our young, male waiter jostled and spilled a cup of coffee while gawking at CostumeChick’s cleavage.)  I shared my own find-the-right-bra story. 

For me, the left boobage is quite a bit larger than the right boobage.  Although my left boobage had a chunk removed from it a few years ago, radiation treatments have left her swollen, so she’s bigger than her sister.  Thus, I’ve had some bra issues.  If a bra fits the left side, the right side is way too big and caves in.  If a bra fits the right side, the left boobage spills over the top, attempting to escape.  Not a good look in either case. 

I once tried on about 50 different bras in Macy’s without finding even one that I thought would work for me.  The sales people were of no help.  No suggestions for me.  I thought maybe I’d have to buy one of those chicken cutlet things and wear it under the right boobage in a left-fitting bra. I figured I’d try a real bra shop first – one of those places where all they know is boobs and they could fit me properly.  I went to Whispers from Lady Olga in the center of Milford.  (They don’t have a website – I checked)  Problem solved.  I told the shop owner about my size issue and she new exactly what I needed.  And it wasn’t a chicken cutlet thing.  She measured me, handed me a bra, and sent me to try it on.  Ding ding ding.  Perfect.  First bra I tried on was it.  (And if you click on the link to go look at this bra, please know that I look exactly like that when I wear it.  Could be my twin.  I even sit like that when I wear it.  Really.)  I love this bra.  I have one in nude and one in black and I wear them almost exclusively, unless I’m just hanging around the house and then I wear one of my old bras.  (And when I say hanging around the house, I mean exactly that.)  They’re expensive-for-me as bras go – about 70 bucks each, but they’ve been worth it.  Hand wash.  Hang to dry.  Worship.

This bra has industrial strength molded cups that hold their shape – with or without boobage to fill them.  This bra allows the left sister to fill out her side and lets the right sister just kind of hang out and rest in there without anyone knowing just how much room she has left for . . . let’s say . . . storage.  Last night, I was able to impress the girls (the other girls – the friends) with my storage capabilities.  I can hold a cell phone.  Or I can hold my change purse.  Or I can hold an apple (and I had one from Panera that I hadn’t eaten yet – convenient for demonstration purposes).  You can not tell that there’s anything in there.  Really.  I’d be the perfect girlfriend for a metrosexual guy who doesn’t want the lump of his wallet in his back pocket to spoil the line of his pants.  I could carry his wallet with the sister on the right.  Yankee’s wallet, however, was a different story.  She owns the mother of all wallets – a huge, bulging, leather monster-of-a-money-holder.  It didn’t fit.  I tried, but it stuck out.  After I’d removed the monster from my bra and returned it to Yankee, it felt as though something had been left behind.  I reached in.  I felt it.  I pulled it out. 

It was this:

She’d left me a tip.

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6 Responses to “Wonky Weather and a Bra Tip”

  1. Anne Says:

    Keep the tip, Sweetie — you earned it! 😉

  2. Sonia Says:

    I love what we knitters are willing to go through to congregate! I was a weather wimp and stayed home, knitting alone. In the rain. So sad! Next time I will definitely brave the elements to get to SnB!

  3. rmsheffler Says:

    Wow! We had thunder, lightning, & a boatload of rain on my side of town, but no hail…. Dang! Glad you’re alright, though. 🙂

  4. accountantgrrl Says:

    I’m glad you braved the “tornado” to come and knit with us!

    Those were some really impressive bra skillz you gots there, girl! Yo!

  5. Emily Says:

    Bwaha! You really meant a tip! I am going to giggle about that for a while.

  6. costumechick Says:

    I don’t think the waiter was looking at my cleavage…that much. he was just clumsy. yeah, clumsy

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