pomegranatesandpaper

Wedding Week Extravaganza of ....Painting

Y'all know I am my own worst enemy. I freely admit this. All my family is nodding their heads in affirmation. After the glorious get away on Saturday (nothing is so wonderful as getting in the car on a sunny day and taking off for The Cottage), I spent the morning in Wellfleet sketching, then hung around Sunday with my sister and mother. We had avocado and crab salad brioche sandwiches and fruit tarts for lunch, took naps on the beach, had Wendy's "half-salads" for dinner overlooking the beauty of the inlets behind the outer beach at Fort Hill.

Energized on Monday morning ( was it just yesterday?), I wrote an entire chapter of the novel at Sparrow's and then went shopping for paint and sundries. I did a simple project that took just a few hours and turned out well:

 

 

I'd been wanting to do this since we brought this dresser home from the thrift store two years ago. It's brown wicker finish was in good shape but oh so boring. I used some Martha Stewart craft paints I had picked up at Michaels and just did a wash of related colors.

Motivated by accomplishing a task I'd been putting off for two years, I decided to tackle painting the two steps that lead from the laundry room/side entry into the kitchen. Painted flat white by our not so bright painter when we bought the house, they had ugly black rubber treads installed by the prior owner. Chipped, worn, and shabby without the chic, I'd been wanting to pry off those treads for three years.

They came off in two seconds with a hammer, and I ran to the paint store with this in mind:

 

 You must admit that I have good taste: these are Jonathan Adler's beach house stairs.

 

I wasn't entirely crazy to tackle this project this week since I have only two steps to paint. The problem is that when I enter a paint store, I lose my mind. I go on sensory overload and the chips whirl around in my brain as I imagine every possible color scheme in the world. By the time I walked out, I'd forgotten about blues and white and had  decided to have some fun with pink and green.

Every house on the Cape has a hint of pink and green, right? And it would be a witty reference to the upcoming wedding in Chatham, land of pink and green, right? I'll do a one bright green and one bright pink tread, which also are the colors of the corner cupboard in the dining area.

As I was leaving the paint store, I realized that I didn't buy any paint for the risers. I decided not to buy white because they are white right now and show dog hair like crazy. Black, black will look very cool. A deep glossy black.

As I began to paint, I realized that the stairs would look all bright and shiny but the crummy molding-less walls on either side would still be their banged up flat white crappola. Should I paint the walls, too? Now that would be a lot more work.  I took some painting tape and ran a slanted line at about hand height. This is perfect, plus it will hide fingerprints if I paint the  black halfway up. It all went on very quickly:glossy black half wall, glossy black risers, one pink and one green tread....

Ugh.

A circus. I had painted a  bright, glossy circus that had no relation to anything in this house. I hated it. Mr. Pom would hate it. And no, there are no pictures.  So I ran back to the paint store, stayed within my color scheme and picked a pretty slate blue, Benjamin Moore Bayou Blue, and a paler sky blue. Came home, rolled the slate blue all over the black, realized that the tape marks on either wall weren't even, raised the tape line, realized that the black painted on only one wall was making the other wall of blue look too light, thought maybe I should paint that black over the blue and then paint blue? Aargh!

Time to run to store to buy Kilz. Oh bother, it's 11:00 p.m.! And fell into bed, resisting the urge to pull my hair out.

I rummaged through Mr. Pom's utility closet: there must be some freaking white paint in here so I can cover up this horror... Eureka! A pristine quart of Rustoleum semi-gloss white. Oil. Oh. Bother again. I have no turpentine....I'll just paint, put the roller and brush in an airtight baggie, do a second coat in the a.m., and go out for turpentine. Beautiful glossy white - like meringue! And I will use the pink and green and light blue to paint a runner! I am brilliant!

Except when I got up this morning, the paint, the OIL paint was as tacky as if I'd painted it an hour ago. So doing what any rational person would do, I painted a second coat, and realized that the stairs would never be dry enough to paint a runner or even to walk on, maybe even by Friday! So a house full of company, luggage, kids, and dogs would have to go out the front door, walk to the side of the house and back again in order to access the laundry room (where The Bride already has about a dozen huge boxes of decorations, favors, etc for the events.)

At this point, I should have just booked a room at Chathams Bar Inn and hid from them all until the wedding march when I Could scuttle into my seat, knowing that they couldn't kill me in front of a crowd.

 

 

From Barclay Butera's new book. It's photos like these that get me into trouble...My laundry room could look exactly like this but for....everything.

 

So....I've been running the heat all day and have a fan blowing on the stairs with the door shut. The door I cannot paint because I cannot reach it from the bottom of the steps. Whilst asphyxiating from the oil fumes in the hot room, I painted  the two exterior doors and the window trim slate blue and the two utility closets light blue.  My right wrist and shoulder are spasming, I think I have a shin splint,  and my nails are a wreck. I have to put at least one more coat on the utility doors, window, and one exterior door. There's white oil paint drips I can't get up from the ancient linoleum in front of the stairs. The girls are here tomorrow with all their stuff and if no one can go up and down these steps, they will have a long trek to the front door. In the rain.

 

Note fan trained on steps and garage door awaiting second coat. The blue is marvelous; it dries to the color of a really worn pair of jeans. Yummy.

 

The morale of the story is this: Never leave me alone in an empty house with a can of paint. I can't be trusted. I need Mr. Pom to say, Have you lost your mind? And then I get annoyed, we bicker, and then reach a much better compromise.

But truth be told: I am so doing those stairs after the wedding. And I looked today in the hardware store for the rope. Didn't have any of that diameter but I am in boat heaven here, so it must be around here somewhere....

Someone save me or by the time I walk down the aisle with the bride, my right arm will be in a sling.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Summer Reading 2012 Part One

 

Very early on Saturday morning, in bed, enjoying the sun through the French doors and the breeze. Mr. Pom has already left the house to get his hair cut. (He goes to an old school barber who doesn't take appointments, so he has to be first one in or he has to "waiiiiiit". Men hate to waiiiiiit.)

For some blessed reason the dogs have not stirred and although my bladder is about to burst, I refuse to get out of bed and wake them up. I am savoring these few minutes of birdsong and quiet before the storm begins.

Oops, I shouldn't refer to The Wedding as the storm, right? It's not a storm on any front but these are the last few minutes for the next ten days when I am not totally and completely overtaken with all things wedding.

In fact, I was supposed to pack last night and leave by myself first thing this morning for the Cape, the first person to head up. Unfortunately, I spent the two hours before dinner staring into  my closet trying to figure out what to wear for the rehearsal dinner. Then Mr. Pom insisted on going out to dinner and plying me with  a large glass of wine. My last memory was watching the season finale of Smash on demand and turning over until he woke me sneaking out for a haircut. So today I will get some last minute errands done and then take off late afternoon or tomorrow morning.

But I promised a summer reading post and here it is!

Not technically summer, yet, but on Memorial Day, when everyone is hungover from the wedding, I shall be sitting my butt on a beach chair (whether at the beach, in my backyard, or in front of a fire in my living room) and cracking open all the books I've been too busy to read.

Truth be told, I have been reading a lot, lately. I am too scattered with all that is going on to write, so I have been reading and sketching. The latter will wait for another post, but I wanted to share the wonderful books that I've been enjoying.

I have divided this into two posts: the first concentrates on UK fiction, which I am rolling in like a pasture of bluebells and cowslips on a summer's morn. (That's cowslips, not cow patties.) For those of you who roll your eyes at yet another series of UK novels, don't click off; there are several who will change your mind, especially the literary mysteries that are not Miss Marple. The second post, has some great American writers and fascinating nonfiction, one of which I declare my nonfiction book of the year. (You'll have to wait for that for a few days....)

 

The Summer of the Bear
By Bella Pollen

I may have written about this once before, but it bears repeating.  This is a most unusual, charming, and tender novel. A young boy, a father's death, the Outer Hebrides, secret agents and red herrings, a bear and a fantasy, and a journey back to the heart.

 

The Flight of Gemma Hardy: A Novel by Margot Livesey

 

A modern Jane Eyre tale of an young Icelandic  girl who is orphaned and sent to her Scottish uncle's family, who take her in  and then in turn ship her off to a Dickensian boarding school when the beloved uncle dies.  Eventually she ends up as a nanny in a island (I'm on a Scotch kick). Beautifully written with a strong sense of place from Scotland to Iceland, and a page turning plot.

 

 

 

Dark Matter: A Ghost Story  by Michelle Paver

The Arctic Circle, a group of young scientists in the late 1930's, and a dark, brooding land that reflects back the unease and self-doubts that they bring with them on the expedition. Isolation and desolation; shadows and seaweed; dogs and delirium. I read this in two big gulps, up late at night in a rainstorm, too spooked to walk across the hall and jump into bed with Mr. Pom.

 

 

Awakening

I don't recall how I discovered S.J. Bolton, but I suspect it was on Cornflower Books, which is the source of so many of my wonderful UK reads. (Thank heavens for The Book Depository, which is my source for books not published in the U.S. and has free shipping worldwide. ) I am not a mystery reader; I am perhaps the only person in the world who has not read The Dragon Tattoo trilogy (though saw the movie). If I am going to read a mystery, it has to be a literary mystery, preferably with an author from the UK. 

Bolton is a marvelous writer who uses powerful imagery and exquisite prose to tell the story of a flawed, damaged beauty who works as a vet in rural England and prefers rescuing badgers to talking to her neighbors. A fast-paced plot and enough romance to make one wistful is snaked through with ...snakes and I can't tell you more without giving away the plot.

 

Sacrifice 

 

Now that I've discovered Ms. Bolton, I am reading through her ouevre, and began with her first book, Sacrifice, set yet again in rural Scotland.  (My blanketing of tartan reads is only coincidental, but most delightful.) Reading a first novel after you've read a third or fourth is like watching home videos of your grown child as a toddler. You chuckle over her tenacity of getting back up on her training wheels after many spills off the bike, while noting the seeds of talent and intelligence in their first words and unconditional love. The book is a little over-plotted and has so many interrelated characters and switching of identities that I often had to go back and give it a second read. However, a novel that begins with the female protagonist digging a ditch with a front loader to bury a horse and finding a body preserved in the peat, is irresistible,  and the strong sense of place in the setting of the  Shetland Islands, the Viking folklore, and the resilience of the female character, this time a resourceful ob-gyn, creates a worthy read. I have two more of her books packed in my car for the Cape.

 

A Writer's Britain (Second Edition) by Margaret Drabble

A Writer's Britain - that is the Britain I wish to visit. I suspect it exists only in my mind or between the pages of a A.S. Byatt novel, but I will get there some day.  I have not opened this book yet but it is all packed in my hold-all. What could possibly be more sweet than Margaret Drabble writing about English authors writings about Britain?

 

Hearts and Minds by Rosy Thornton

 Have only dipped into the first few pages and have never read the author before but she has a long list of novels, and all appear to be those endearing read that combine romantic comedy, well-realized characters with foibles and heartache, and just enough satire to make one nod in recognition. This one is about a newly-appointed  male principal of an all-girl Cambridge college. Ah, more British reading for lovely summer nights. 

 

House at Sea's End by Elly Griffiths

On the northern coast of northfolk, archeologists are studying coastal erosion when they stumble across a grave of 6 men. Another literary mystery with a strong sense of the cold, damp, windy coastline and a battle of life and death linked to WWII, unraveled unwittingly by the young, single mother archeologist.  Griffiths has a series of mysteries and they are all on my TBR list.

 

Daphne: A Novel by Justine Picardie

 I don't know why it has taken me so long to pick up Justine Picardie's novel about Daphne DuMaurier. Rebecca remains one of my "threshold books" of my youth and anything about DuMaurier intrigues me. I have vivid memories of reading it for the first time and have frequently reread it over the years, always surprised anew somehow at the double twists at the end.  Picardie's novel is a portrait of DuMaurier years after her success with Rebecca. Facing 50, she is heartsick over her husband's affair and his subsequent nervous breakdown; her literary career is stalled and threatening to tank; and she is trying to tease a book out of a 40 year old literary scandal that involves Bramwell Bronte.   Told in 3 parallel narratives set years apart in the style of The Hours, some of the narratives are less sure-footed and more predictable than one would like. The most lush writing is woven through the atmospheric peeks into Menabilly on the Cornwall coast and the over-the-back-fence look at Hamstead. A most intriguing book.

 

VANISHING CORNWALL, THE SPIRIT AND HISTORY OF CORNWALL by Daphne DuMaurier

After reading more about Cornwall in "Daphne" and never forgetting the vision of Happy Valley filled with azaleas, I was excited to pick up a used copy of this out of print book by DuMaurier. Next on my list to read.

 

Drowning Rose by Marika Cobbold.

This little novel is a quirky gem that travels back and forth between the main character's brilliant and promising youth as an artist and her stunted and emotionally frozen adulthood, the result of the   drowning  of her best friend in boarding school. I confess to a wee bit of impatience at the long-suffering Eliza and her blinders as to what really happened. But sometimes characters are drawn to the extreme to provoke the reader to assess whether they are really as pure -or evil - as they appear.  The author has a dark sense of humor (Tragically flawed Eliza works as a restorer of damaged porcelains) and beautifully drawn characters in evocative settings. As much as I wanted to stay in Eliza's little house on a square in London, I wanted to sit inside the manor house in the Swedish countryside, drinking copious amounts of tea whilst watching the snow fall outside the windows.

 

The Undrowned Child by Michelle Lovric

 Mourning Emporium

 

I have just started this series of novels, never having heard of Lovric beforehand, and again, I am unsure how they came on my reading radar. I was drawn to them because they take place in Venice ( yes, I got a visa to leave the UK for vacation). These  two books are considered young adult novels, but they are extravagant and fantastical stories that will appeal to anyone who loves books bursting at the seams with ripe language, vivid plot, and larger than life characters. It is richly embroidered with details of the underside of this extravagant city, which in the author's imagination is layered with sharp-tongued mermaids and ghosts. I've only read a few pages and it is calling to me in my hold all.  

 

The Floating Book:A Novel of Venice

by Michelle Lovric.

Again, I am unsure where I learned of Lovric but I think I will own a copy of her entire list before the summer ends. I haven't opened this yet, but the description is irresistible: Venice, 1468. Sosia Simeon, a free spirit with a strange predilection for books and Venetians is making her particular mark on the fabled city. On the other side of the Grand Canal, Wendelin von Speyer from Germany is setting up the first printing press in Venice and looking for the book that will make his fortune.  

 

I think this is enough to get you started on your own summer reading list. In a few days I will post part 2, which has some fabulously quirky American novels and rich nonfiction, including a book I consider my favorite nonfiction book of the last few years.  Let me know your literary jewels for summer reading in a hammock in the shade of an elm, or under a  porch roof dripping with rain,  or starry sky by lantern light

 

Party Like It's 1994

The Bachelor and the Bachelorette party were on Satuday night. They started off separately, then merged into one big party downtown.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Barefoot in the Bowery. 

I say no more.

Or they'll kill me.

Don't Give Up Hope!

I will post over the weekend!

Usually when I am silent here it's because I am so swamped that I have nothing to say. This week has been the opposite: I am swamped but I have plenty to say. First I have to find a second to do it, though. And upload all the photos.

Must be something in the air cause I just popped over to Blackbird's and she has a post saying the same thing.

First off -

Happy Birthday to Stephanie upon turning 21 and to my sweet sister, her mom, on turning....more than 21!!

And congratulations to my nephew, her brother,  for being selected as the Salutorian of his prep school graduating class! And for being accepted to Georgetown!

Bon voyage and God's blessings to my other niece on the eve of her trip with her school to Israel!

Our family is being showered with blessings and I am trying not to lose track of every bit of it in the whirlwind of these weeks!

This week, Micalenagela came home from school....and I can't remember another thing 'cept it's been really busy with:

• wedding stuff, (getting gowns and suits altered; last minute changes to theme and decor - kill me now; drafting and designing the programs, menus, seat cards, seat numbers - Micalangela says kill her now),
• gardening (when I say "gardening" I really mean landscaping i.e. digging a trench and edging the beds, i.e. can't bend down to pick anything up to save my life and my hamstrings may never recover); 
• ordering and returning shoes upon shoes as everyone tries to find what to wear to the wedding in order to have gowns  hemmed on time
• shopping for something to wear to the bachelorette party in the city as what I thought was a very hip black jacket with asymmetrical zipper and bronzed buttons was laughed at by certain a certain bride....
• covering an insane amount of cases that had my head spinning  each morning as I tried to remember what court/deposition in what county I was supposed to be in;
• and who knows what else.

In the meanwhile, we are at TWO WEEKS and counting! Large packages containing gifts and sundries ordered by the bride clog the front porch, front hall, and dining room. My art room is stacked with piles of clothing as I decide what to wear when. The side porch is stacked with Micalenagela's college stuff that she will throw back in the car when she moves back down in a few weeks for her on campus summer job and off campus apartment. In short, we are a holy mess and will remain that way for quite a few more weeks.

However, Mr. Pom and I had a marvelous time in the city last weekend, which I will upload soon and tomorrow we are going to buy plants for the garden. I am drawing studies  of  old family photographs that I want to turn into paintings, and I just got a new decorating book that has me chomping at the bit to redo the entire house. Oh, and I am reading at night instead of watching TV and I've have some great summer reading recommendations.

So don't give up hope: regular blogging will be sparse for a bit longer, but will be filled with some wonderful content. Right now the sun is out for the first time in a week. It is blustery but sunny and Mr. Pom is coming home to go for sushi and Chardonnay.

 

What To Do, What To Do?

Mr. Pom feels better today, so we decided he should stay home this weekend and rest some more instead of going to the Cape. He needs to be at his best for the Father/Daughter dance at the wedding. And since he's been known to breakdance, he needs all the rest he can get.

So I decided I would go up by myself, which truth be told, is not entirely awful as it's kind of nice to be up there by yourself and just do whatever you want. Of course, I'm going up to do a bunch of house projects, but that doesn't mean I won't find time for some beach walking in the early morning and sunset picture taking up by Truro.

Then I remembered that The Fiance and The Bride To Be are going up to get their marriage license, but I knew our paths would really not cross. 

And then as I was making dinner tonight, The Bride To Be said, Mom......maybe you could...y'know.....stay home?

And I replied, Maybe you could....y'know....stay at The Cove and I'll stay at My House?

Not! I smiled sweetly and said, no problem!, and grumbled up the stairs.

So what the heck am I going to do this weekend? I mean besides the 50 million wedding-related items I need to check off my list. I know I have to bring my dress to be altered, Mr. Pom's pants to be hemmed, work on decorations for the rehearsal dinner, organize music for the party after the rehearsal dinner and .....

 

Or.....

 

 

Mr. Pom and I can jump into the Mini and drive to Dumbo for a  a ride on the carousel under the Brooklyn Bridge.

 

And admire the beautiful handpainted emblems.

 

 

We could take a bike tour of lower Manhattan.

 

 

Go to some way, way, way off-Broadway Theatre.

 

 

Sample some olives at Whole Foods.

 

 

Or wait for Will Smith outside his crib.

 

 

Paint our windows filled with spring flowers.

 

 

Have lunch at a farmhouse table al fresco - in the middle of the Bowery.

 

 

Reminisce about old school New York institutions,

 

 

as we ride around on our Vespas (for Blackbird) and park right on the sidewalk

 

 

 

 

to drink molto cappuccini in the sun.

 

 

Which we will definitely need after sampling the artisanal whiskeys and buying more Scuttlehole Chardonnay.

 

And count the gold dancers sculpted by Bruce Williams frolicking up the side of Gene Frankel Theater (thanks Andrew Borloz!)

 

We may not get to walk with the gulls this weekend, but don't feel sorry for us! We love where we live - in both places. There's always something to do and somewhere to go.  We have the best of both worlds. And we love it!

 

What Month Is It?

WEDDING MONTH!!!!!

Oh, did I mention that we were having a little wedding? I can't remember. Well, in case you haven't heard, it's in May and this is the month of

 

MAY!!!!!!

 

Planning a wedding that is 250 miles away can be a little daunting, but it's not that bad. I have one blogging friend whose daughter is planning her wedding from Japan and another whose daughter is planning her's in Brooklyn - from Colorado.

We have the advantage of jumping in the car to check out how things are going. Last weekend, despite the fact that Mr. Pom is in a lot of pain, he wanted to get up there and take a little peek at the venue because he only saw the room on our first tour and that, believe it or not, was about 21 months ago.

So we decided to hoof it up  and take a peek. The weather  was absolutely gorgeous, clear, bright, though cold. The water was as many shades of blue as God made and the greens! Trees, grass, shrubs, all just leafing out in that tender, absolutely fleeting shade of green gold that disappears overnight.

 

 

We strolled around the grounds and then we went......

 

 

Did you see that? What the heck was that? Was that a wedding party coming down the stairs? A wedding party coming down OUR stairs headed towards OUR room?

They have OTHER weddings here??

We abandoned all pretense at being discrete and  did what any red-blooded parents would do:

 

We spied.

 

 

 

 

 

How do you like that? Someone else was getting married at the same time, albeit 4 weeks before, us! Are they not adorable? Loved the blue blazers and khakis.

 

 

It's going to be glorious.

 

I confess, I started to get a little teary as we walked around. It was finally sinking in that we were doing this, that she was doing this, and that we were doing it here. We are immensely pleased and proud that this amazing fragile and narrow stretch of land has such a hold on our family. We wouldn't want  our children get married anywhere else and we are so thrilled that we have the opportunity to share this with our extended family and friends.

It was a lot to take in. We decided that the rest of the weekend was not for retrofitting a new sink top into a wonky wall, but was for us, the parents, the couple, the man and woman, boy and girl who discovered each other and this place so many years ago.

 

 

After all, we didn't have to be staying at the hotel to take advantage of the view. Although it was cold and windy, the sun was shining and plenty of people, okay a hardy few, were sitting in deck chairs. We grabbed a garden bench in the sun and let a waiter bring us glasses of pinot grigio. One kind couple even gave us a hotel blanket as they ran inside to prevent frostbite. I had a good little cry and then we toasted to our children's future and to our own, to a happy wedding, and to better health for Mr. Pom.

 

 

And now, I must go and print out this picture to bring to my hair stylist so she can figure out what I can do with my hair at the wedding so I do not have to spend the next 30 years saying, "Yes, children your Grandma had A LOT of hair and it was very windy/humid/hot/wet on the day of your parents' wedding...."

My Girls Are So Happy

I loved reading everyone's comments to the last post! It appears that many of my readers are of a certain age and have a love/hate relationship with make up, hair color, and dressing up in general. I found a lot of food for thought in your comments and it has caused me to do some more writing about this interesting issue of coming of age in the radical 70's and raising daughters in the conservative new millinnium. A few days after I wrote the last post, I was on Facebook and what did The Women's Room have as a lead in to their recent blog entry, "Can you be a feminist and a fashionista?"

The post did not have the same focus as mine did regarding the generational differences as it was concerned with working in the fashion industry, but it did affirm that it is possible to be a feminist in the fashion industry. It would be interesting to explore whether women in the fashion industry every cringe at apparel that seems to be designed for one purpose only, such as shoes that are destined to cripple your feet but only have one message to a guy.

Today I bit the bullet today and went for the bra fitting. Relatively painless once someone tipped me off to a lingerie shop near me, which was much better than dealing with part time and the crowds  at Lord & Taylor. The corset bra was the easiest bra to fit; I just had to try on 2 different sizes. The corset works as a platform for the girls to slide right into their projectiles. My goodness - they look like 16 again! (Or as close to it as I will ever come again in my lifetime.)

Unfortunately, once I got home and put on the bra and dress, The Bride to Be pointed out that the dress showed about half of the bra in the back. I didn't realize it was cut so low. So back I go next week to exchange. This time I will bring the dress, which was my initial plan but I was driving past the shopping center after work and decided to get the millstone bra from around my neck.

Getting regular bras was a work out.  I must have tried on about 8 before I found even one that fit correctly. Of course, I thought several fit correctly but the saleswoman was shaking her head and pointing out how the piece between the cups didn't lie flat or that I had  "cuppage overflow" (my term) under the arms. After 45 minutes I had the approval for  4 styles, including a sports bra that I desperately needed because who wants to have an underwire on when you are on the treadmill?

4 bras at once is what happens when you wait 4 years between purchases. If you want to know if you are ready for new bras, go try one on and take a good look in the fitting room mirror. Then put your old one back on and when you hear a loud gasp coming from your mouth, you know that your bra was well past its expiration date.

Unfortunately for me as an inveterate online consumer, unless you are buying the exact same bra as one you already have that fits beautifully, you cannot shop online or by mail. First off, I am the same cup size but somehow 2 inches smaller around than last time, and I varied a cup size and circumference size  amongst the different styles and manufacturers. I was also suprised that several of the bras that the fitter declared perfect gave me back fat. She explained that everyone has back fat because you need a tight bra to keep the girls up. I disagreed with that and after trying on many styles, found the ones that gave I felt were the most flattering in the back.

Someday, I hope to have the courage to buy some lacy, pretty bras. I seem to be very utilitarian with my bra purchases, which is quite strange because I certainly am not with anything else. I know I buy boring shoes these days, but that is a foot and knee issue that I would gladly overcome if anyone made gorgeous shoes with low heels and wide widths. But they don't!

I believe that my practical underwear is a direct result of being overweight my entire life and being so grateful for underwear that fit and so embarassed at having to ask for the large sizes. Even now, I don't find anything particularly darling in my size. But I am glad to have the girls up where they belong! I say no more!

(BTW, Typepad Beta is trying out some new 'recommended links' format. I'll have to see how intrusive it is and whether it really is content related. Just ignore for now if it is obnoxious!)