The Bra Workout

WARNING: If you are a guy, I don’t think you’ll be interested in this, so just mosey on along. But for you gals … continue reading.

I’m sure many of you would agree that shopping can be a workout. Bathing suits, skinny jeans, and the perfect prom dress require oodles of time, so much so that you write it on your calendar. THURSDAY: mall for bathing suits; SATURDAY: find perfect pair of jeans. Shopping for these items also involve marathon try-on sessions which, as in the case of bathing suits and skinny jeans, turn you into a contortionist that would put any Cirque de Soleil performer to shame.

And then there is bra shopping, which took up TWO HOURS of my time this morning.

I’m sure you’re scoffing. Two hours? How can that be? Allow me …

First, the selection of bra types is mind boggling: minimizer, t-shirt, push-up, racerback, full coverage, underwire, cross-back, balconette, bandeau, contour, convertible, full cup, demi cup, maternity, padded, plunge, shelf, stick-on, and strapless.

Then, the size you THOUGHT you were isn’t working anymore. You know this because, having been professionally fitted, reality comes crashing down with the news that you’ve been wearing the wrong bra size all along. Well then. Now you know.

But you don’t, not really, because knowing your perfect fit is just a STARTING POINT. You now need to convert your professionally fitted bra recommendation to the size and type of EVERY brand of bra because a 34B or a 38C is not the same across the board.

The cruelest thing? The sizes don’t necessarily translate between color because when you find the perfect fitting black bra, you go pick out a nude one in the same style and size thinking that your job is now done, but the nude one doesn’t fit the same as the black one.

Let me repeat that: same size and brand, but a different color, and the sizing is off. What the heck?

So you can see how the two hours were necessary. A SWEATY two hours because… well … Cirque du Soleil in the dressing room.

See? A workout, I tell you.

Speak to Me Sunday: Now Moments

an early weekday morning ... whispers in the dark ... 

a quiet breakfast ... a quiet drive ... 

first day of school ... 

10th grade, when just yesterday it was kindergarten

~~~~~~~~~~

after dinner, still at the kitchen table ... a board game ... 

brother vs. brother ... mother vs. sons ... laughter ... 

mom loses ...

but nonetheless wins

~~~~~~~~~~

Sunday evening ... one phone call, then two ... 

one son, then the other ... voices deep, young men now ...  

checking in with mom ... 

calling home

~~~~~~~~~

cooking again ... dishes again ...

the repetition of chores ... but then, a husband holding a flower ...

and just like that ...

what chores?

~~~~~~~~~~

a cardinal in the sprinklers ... a blue jay on the fence ...

splashes of colors ... later, a rainstorm in the sun ... a rainbow in the gray

revelations...

things you see when you look

You must live in the present,

launch yourself on every wave,

find your eternity in each moment.

-Henry David Thoreau

An Evening Contemplation

Yesterday, looking at the evening sky, these were my totally random thoughts ...

A friend of mine (who is now a Franciscan priest) once told me that clouds are every color except white. Studying the puffy, billowy clouds overhead I saw purple, pink, blue, grey and yellow, but no white.

The puffy clouds reminded me of  this conversation from Winnie the Pooh: "Why is the sky blue?" asked Piglet. "To give us something to talk about," said Pooh.

Then, probably because I was in an introspective mood, this quote popped into my head: "Faith is not believing that God can. It is knowing that God will.

And such was my evening. That night I went to bed and slept well.

The Day Before the First Day of You-Know-What

We are not allowed to say the "s" word around here. It's verboten. To do so ruins all the carefree, youthful abandonment of summer vacation.

That being said, tomorrow is the first day of you-know-what, so here's how we prepare ...

1- restock homework basket
2- clean out kitchen drawer (we don't have enough rubber bands) (ha!)
3- fill folders with notebook paper, gather supplies, pack backpack
4- pull out lunchbox
5- laundry
6- get in all the Xbox you can because once you-know-what begins, gaming is only on weekends

Makes My Monday: Adulting

Last Friday, Jonathan came home after a 9-week summer internship in Atlanta. After all that hard work I assumed he'd spend this time relaxing before heading back to school in the fall, but I was wrong. On Saturday morning, he got up when his alarm went off at 7:30, showered, ate breakfast, and began studying for his CPA exam. He emerged from his room at lunchtime and dinnertime. The same thing happened on Sunday. He's determined to use these two weeks to get a head start on his test prep.

Three states over in Arkansas, Nicholas, who is a computer engineer, also woke up early Saturday morning. Due to a new program implementation at work, he put in a 9-5 workday. When he called Sunday evening to tell me about it, he said he didn't mind. He likes his coworkers, he likes his job, and they were treated to a catered breakfast and lunch.

And what did Timothy do on Saturday? He did not get up early; in fact, at 10:30 I went in to wake him up. He ate breakfast, made his bed, poked his head in to say hi to Jonathan, then went to work on his Xbox for the rest of the day.

"School starts this Wednesday and I'm running out of time!" he explained.

Somehow, I have a feeling he wasn't just talking about school.

Timothy, always following in his brothers' footsteps

Speak to Me Sunday: Pockets of Grace

Once upon a time I was a woman on a mission. I had exactly five minutes to run into Publix, figure out what to fix for dinner, pray for a short check-out lane, hope for no traffic snarls, pick up the boys, run home . . . the list went on and on. It was one of those days.

Chicken fingers, I decided. Rushing to the deli counter I got there at the same time as another man. I saw him out of the corner of my eye, but I was so busy mentally going over my to-do list that I didn't even acknowledge him.

"Who's next?" asked the Publix attendant.

I looked at the older gentleman standing next to me.

"Oh, you're prettier than I am," he said graciously. "Please, you go."

A laugh just bubbled out of me. I thanked him and placed my order of 15 chicken fingers, remembered that I was picking up the boys from practice, and changed the order to 20 chicken fingers.

The man laughed.

"How do you suppose she keeps her trim figure eating all that?" he asked the Publix attendant.

Later, when I was telling this story to the family during dinner, I had to convince them that A) the man wasn't senile, and B) that he could see just fine thank-you-very-much. Oh, the teasing was all in good fun but, really, the point wasn't what the man said but that he said anything at all.

Mark Twain once said that he could live for two months on a good compliment and, while I don't know about two months, I do know that my stranger's kind words certainly put a spring in my step and changed the course of the rest of my day. I slowed down, I remembered to breathe, I wasn't late for anyone or anything.

And dinner was great.

A moment with a stranger was all it took for time to stand still. There is a visceral beauty in reaching out to others in kindness, warmth and good-will, in sharing a moment, a laugh, a story, or a even a compliment with a stranger, for these little pockets of grace reaffirm the wonderful interconnectedness of humanity.

Boy, Oh Boy

I'm surrounded by boys, and sometimes ...

Sometimes, after spending all day cooking, I wish they would linger over the meal and not wolf everything down in two seconds.

Sometimes, I could do with less wrestling matches in the house.

Sometimes, I'd like someone to go to the mall with me and not act like they're being tortured.

Sometimes, I would like to watch a Saturday afternoon movie instead of basketball, football, or golf.

Sometimes, I get tired of tripping over size 12 sneakers all over the place.

Sometimes, I wish for something pink in my house.

Sometimes, I'd like to walk into a clean boys' bathroom.

And sometimes ...

Sometimes when they sing in the shower, lean over my shoulder to see what I am writing, kneel next to me in church, show me their latest essay, call just to talk, or plant a sloppy kiss on my cheek, then I think ...

I wouldn't have it any other way.