Training Bras

Training Bras don't come with any instructions.  I don't know why they even call them that if they don't include some sort of head's up to the wearer.

They should.

 

Especially if you are in "training" before you get the Official Training in 5th grade.

 

"The Video"

 

far outshines the fact that 5th grade is

 

Amercan History

 

and you learn a bunch of songs that other 5thers do, and sing them at the HS to your parents.

 

And you are backed up by HS bands, I think.

 

Back to bras.

 

I was horrified when Madre told me it was time to stop wearing my

 

comfortable, cotton camisole undershirts that had cut little rosebuds with small greenery on them.

They were like being wrapped in a blanket, securely enveloped from all of the atrocities at

elementary school.

 

But it came time that they weren't covering enough and Madre informed me that I would need a bra.

 

I busted into tears. Those undershirts were like close family to me.

And I loved when I would get a new, plastic covered package from Kmart.

 

One day Madre dragged me

 

  into Penney's section past bras that looked like headgear for the chest with all of their wires and what not.

 

my face burning red, vowed NEVER to wear one of those...

 

That's where "training" in the moniker training bra must have come from, a way to slowly get used to the inevitable;

 

where you get used to the idea of giving up your comfy camisole for the restrictive devices.

 

The attendant for the bra deparment probably wondered what was going on as I bawled in the dressing room.

 

Readers, this was before Britney Spears and wearing nothing was popular in elementary.

And before nail art took your mind off of puberty.

 

Eventaully through tears I must have decided on the most comfortable padded bra because I started wearing one.

 

However, I was

horrified to wear anything that would give the allusion to anyone in the class that I had bra straps over my shoulders now.

 

It was bad enough that I had to wear glasses, headgear for my buck teeth, and now hit puberty before we even knew about fractions.

 

Or at least before I had grasped the fraction dealio. 

 

 

All of these memories have come flooding back as J. is to enter his

 

"The Video" year of elementary.

 

We have discussed the birds and bees but it is more like the Ostrich Bird and Killer Yellow Jacket Bees conversation now that we are in a post Britney Spears era.

J. is trying to stuff every bit of adventure into summer before this tortuous year begins.

 

I guess I should notify Padre of the ensueing video that he will have to go to with J. I think Madre is going to have to give him the Big Bird and Wasp discussion before this takes place.

 

 

Oh, I got over my training bra. After wearing it 24 -7 for the first little while Madre let me know it was ok to take off at night.

 

I am so used to the headgear around my bust that I even carry a card telling me and anyone who steals my purse my exact size.

 

 

So glad I have elementary school out of the way. Maybe I should start making instructions for my own line of training bras that will let you know all about acne, boys, how to stay away from cell phone disasters, mood swings, tampons, and so on and yes, take them off at night, forth.

Snap Dragons and Susan Branch

 

The only Two Snap Dragons in our yard...

 

There were no flowers planted this year.

Can you believe that?

 

In fact, Padre sprayed the garden trying to take out my sunflowers!

(and the weeds and grass.)

 

But I know he had it out for my flowers because he'd look out the window and ask whether I was growing a vegetable garden or a flower garden.

 

duh.

 

The vegetables are there to throw him for a loop.

My REAL agenda was flowers!  

 

One year a lone sunflower rose up. From then on, they were welcome in my garden.

And eventually, 

 

Those sunflowers are what made this garden!

 

 

 

Well, the good news is that they are hearty and prevailed. Just like the brave little snapdragons above.

They were in a bad location though- right by where all of Padre's hoses meet by the valve.

 

I had to turn on the hose a hand full of times out front and that is when I noticed the snapdragons. So instead of watering hanging baskets full of beautiful foliage, I've been assigned to keep grass from dying.

 

During this automatic sprinkler endeavor, I felt a twinge of inspiration come from those flowers that pushed through despite Padre's efforts to kill weeds. They got caught in the cross fire and have just now bloomed for me.

 

 

When I saw the first sunflower bloom, I said: "Oh!" outloud.  

 

"They must be a little sign, a message for me to perservere"

I concluded inside myself.

 

And I couldnt't help but feel smug that they came through loud and proud despite my inability to tend to them because I've been in a place where the sun doesn't shine- disease, etc.

One almost can forget how wonderful the littlest things are. So when you are able to see it after a storm, you feel like you've witnessed a miracle..

 

I mean, Padre put down a pesticide that killed off everything. And there are a million weeds.

All those sticks Jaden had to pick up back when the tree suffered some broken branches, and then we took off some more so that the sun could hit our garden, well it paved the way for a great harvest.

 

Despite me being able to help it along. Don't I have a good garden?

I know it has missed me!  But in time I know I will be back in it.

 

I left that Snapdragon to remind me each time I saw it, to keep pushing.

 

Then the other day, when J. mowed,

 

 he whipped one of Padre's many hoses, in such a way that it broke the snap dragon.

 

Oh, No! I thought Maybe another sign??

PS, I am not superstitious.

 

However

 

 my Grandmother tripped on her hose and broke her hip. She had been tending to her beautiful rose garden or one of her always perfect hanging baskets.

 

She has been very ill for a long time and suffers from Parkinson's disease. A dear, admired woman in my Church had it and when she got to the point where she didn't remember me- when I used to see her every month, we had been in the Mission Training Center together while she prepared to serve with her husband; 

It was hard to watch her descend into the forgetfulness at a time when she and her sweetheart could  have time together.

 

I have not been able to get over to see my grandmother much. On occasion a doctor's visit was nearby and I would visit to eat a piece of homemade bread, spread with a generous amount of butter and her homemade raspberry jam.

 

(See where Padre gets off on how precious raspberries are? And how neighbors covet us because of them. Yeh, right. They just buy Smuckers. )

 

 

 

When I visited her, Grandma and I would  sit in La-Z-Boy chairs in the living room, and take a nap.

Doesn't that sound like the best way to spend an afternoon?

 

Once I slept on their pristine comfy carpet floor, cause Great Papa was in his chair.

He asked which one of us was the invalid when we both got to the point that our mouths hung open and we started off into dreamland.

 

He is a very funny man. (say this with Spanish accent).

 

So I  grabbed a miniature vase of Madre's that is shaped like an iron.

 

Cause my wonderful, perfect iron died recently.

How could it? It was indestructible!

 

Okay, moving on to some positiveness and the progression of summer.

I was sitting with J. on the porch swing and realized we are into the hottest part of summer.

What people call the dog days of summer.

 

"we are gonna need rocking chairs, lemonade, and a good book."

I informed him as the sprinkler made its rotation and we sat looking at it in a deep trance-like state.

 

I couldn't think of what book. And needed a nap. Then guess what happened.

Madre walked into my room with a package.

 

Lately I have had the worst kind of luck with mail. For the most part it has been anyway.

But the package was from a friend.

 

I KNEW exactly what it was. And who sent it.

 

Since you don't- here it is:

 

 

I was so happy.

 

Susan is one of my favorite authors, artists, bloggers, gardeners, person.

Oh!

 

And it all began with stickers.... she made the sweetest ones that trickle down my pages.

I couldn't believe it!

AND it was signed by Susan herself. Oh!

 

Because of my health,

I could only look at a few pages  before a nap was needed. So I just let it nap beside me.

 

Then It started to rain so I haven't been able to get the lemonade and rocker out.

***

I've started into the book and must admit it is romatic. Can't lie.

And I love it will be mine and belong to my bookcase.

 

 

 

 

The Mowers

 

(girl fashionably making most of rainy day)

 

Along with blogging,

 

Brainstorming good entrepreneurial business ideas is one of my hobbies.

 

Trying to think of creative ways to make money is behind the brainstorming.

 

It must come from my genetic code. In my early years I remember an aunt pushing the idea to sell Popsicles at the 4th of July parade. We would only have to figure how to keep the ice cream from melting while pulling the boxes of refreshment in a red wagon down the poop laden streets of historic down town.

(lots of horses in these parades)

The ideas kept trickling in my brain since then. Hence, J's can recycling job, so on and so forth. 

 

Speaking of fourths,

One 4th, not too long ago, I made a huge effort to get down to an area on the parade route located by the Y, which sits atop the first swimming pool I ever laid eyes on. Horrible memory. For another post

 

Anyway, this day was on one of the coldest days in Idaho 4th of July history. Or at least my parade going history here.

 

I found myself trying to keep my dress from flying up in the wind and in my mind I was berating myself for not getting J. out there with a wagon full of hot chocolate.

 

I had it all worked out except for how he would keep the water from burning him and customers.

 

Dang, we would have made a haul that year. Oh, well. Subsequently it was also a year where my kid did something that he had to be "punished" for. So after seeing the horses and BMX riders pass us by and then some government employees in topless Le Sabre vehicles, I had to make the decision no parent wants to do.

 

Spanking was off the table. So I had to walk him back to the car, early. Him crying and begging for a second chance.

 

I wish I would've spanked him to make a good show for the relatives present and so he could have finished off the parade. But you know how important consistency is in childrearing.

 

Yeh, right my rear.

 

Note to any of you" newbie parents" out there- Pick your battles. And don't listen to what the book says. Especially the one about them sleeping on their own right when you leave the hospital

 

Follow your gut and your heart. Don't be ashamed of it You know your kid And you get the op to screw him or her up by virtue of being their parent and choosing If you choose badly, they can go to counseling.

Not a big deal.

 

I wish I would've just shrugged when he had a tantrum moment, commented on how evil children are and stayed. With my foot upon the child of course. It Would've saved me folding the chairs back up after all the effort of getting to the spot and trudging through the parade goers as a kid cried at my feet and tried to tug at my skirt that was wrapped around my face. (due to the wind)

 

That I could handle.

 

The heart break you give your kid. Well, I guess it is for the professionals with PhDs, bystanders, and J. to judge.

 

Where was I? Oh, money!

 

You'd have thought working for a brokerage firm would have landed me in the perfect position to invest all that money from my Kool-Aid Stand ideas. Actually, I took the job to be down the street from my doctors... I sorta fell into having to become a broker and it hasn't had one single effect on being broke at all.

(it helps to be healthy in these business ventures.)

 

However, working there was not a total waste. I did receive some sort of

 

Gone Fishin' Award. (I mean gone workin')

 

Which was an award the firm gave to those who brought in assets, etc. The paper I received had a boat sitting on a lake with a fishing pole in the water. No human present.

And a sign hung on the boat that read: Gone Workin'.

 

Meaning: That human was actually working to get more money for said firm.

While those that owned the firm were on a yacht somewhere fishing.

 

So, I have had to pass this important gene on to J. so that he can have some hobbies and instead of fishing, be working.

 

One day some time ago I told him that he could accrue several more lawns to mow the older he could grow. He was six or something.

 

I tried to come up with some clever names like: Mom and Me Mowing. But I imagined him when he was in his teens and having to deal with this sort of decal on a truck he drove and he might be embarrassed.

 

In all his glorious, child like wisdom he came up with the perfect name....

 

The Mowers.

 

Isn't that brilliant? I glowed with utter satisfaction and quickly tried to reward him with a piece of paper award, so he could show future employers so as to help him get a job.

 

I know that something like that will be a huge resume builder.

 

Oh, and I also had it ingrained in me about saving money. Which really is a good thing.

Oh, by the way.

Going to a movie like out to Edward's Theater, is excruciatingly painful.

I can not think of a bigger way to watch your money burn.

 

However, I was given tickets and even had received a gift card to go there over three years ago.

One evening, the stars aligned and I was well enough to go.

 

J. and I had the best time.

 

I of course waited for a decent movie to come along. Yes, it took several years. But one came,

We went.

 

and we laughed.

 

It was well worth it.

 

I mean, I didn't have to pay for it. So that right there put the worth into most of it, but taking the time and pushing myself was so worth it.

 

I recall looking over at him through my 3-D glasses, which were placed over my regular glasses, at him giggling so hard while wearing his 3-D glasses over his regular glasses, and just smiling. Because his giggling had the other theater people giggling.

 

All of it over yellow, capsule medication looking animation. (what made him giggle)

 

And I couldn't help but wonder how come I didn't think of the idea of un cognisant little pills running around first.

 

Oh, well. Maybe next year's 4th of July will be cold and then J. and I will rule the world!

Because right now my blogging hobby has not brought in one cent.

Which really takes the pressure off.

 

 

Bike Clip Clarifiication

A few weeks ago J. had a bicycle accident. I wanted to clarify that it WASN'T the new bike clips that were put on that caused the accident.

 

He looked down and ran into a car. The reason he looked down was to put his foot in a clip.

 

Looking down and not paying attention is what caused the accident.

 

Clips are actually really great and an asset to mountain biking. Which makes for more fun.

 

Not watching where you are going is another story.

 

Just wanted to clarify because his open wound made the facebook circuit pretty quick before he even had time to tell the Dr. what had happened.

 

Another interesting thing.... I blogged the other day about Kevin Pearce and his accident. Although he had

a massive brain injury

 doing an Action Sport, he did not begrudge or blame the extreme risk or deter futute athletes from participating in the sport.

He said it brought him a lot of

joy.

 

Anything can happen in life. Yes, you can increase your odds of risk by stepping outside.... but if you are smart and educate yourself on the safety end, you can decrease those odds.

 

Case in point: my bug bites. I didn't spray myself before stepping into it after Madre had been bit 7 times.

 

So, really, that is my own fault too. Happy to report that the Apple Cider/Baking Soda paste has brought relief. If took away the redness and spreading of the bite;s venom. No joke! I have had to repeat it, but I have not had any major allergy reactions, thank goodness.

 

So get on a bike, or strap on a snowboard/wakeboard and use your head.

 

But, please love your brain and wear a helmet when needed!

Jam Packed

I have not stepped foot in my garden. As most readers know this is rare.

The garden is where I lived/live for and was the topic of many a blog post. This year there have been no flowers lining the garden for me to water each morning.

No hanging baskets in the front to mist. The break has been a relief although it has been sad.
Susan Branch's blog has provided the needed garden fix as hers has come to fruition. Along with her new book based on the trip to England she took this last year.

Saved me the trip! But I still need to own that book.


In the two years that I have delegated the duties, the raspberry transplants mom got from her friend, have taken over the garden.

So I lied. I stepped out  in my garden  this morning wearing black rain boots while everyone was still snoozing.

And I saw the damage....

The vines have taken over my Rhubarb patch. Um. That was the basis of one of my books.... The Blessing of Rhubarb Pie.

(look! you  can barely see my Rhubarb, choked out!)

Now we have raspberries coming out of our ears. Madre has canned them. She even weeded the other day. As a result was biten 7 times by some black looking bug.

The bites made her arms swell up.. She had to go on prednisone for an allergic reaction! HELLO!

I don't know if this is the year of the arachnids, or what.

Remember how I'd sit on my little stool like a little nimph out there and just weed? Not on your life now.

The stool is about rusted away and that doesn't help, but unless Padre gets out there with some big gun pesticides, I'm throwing in the towel on the garden.

Each evening around mid-night when Padre settles down and looks outside he will lament the raspberry situation.

Padre: People covet those. [raspberries].

Me: (ignoring the implication I go out there and can them, right there outside, off the vine.)

Padre: "that is what I work for."

Me: Rasberries? I was totally under the impression you worked to have mom make you bacon and to have your own, monogrammed towel. Man, I was way off!

 

(so as no one else will use your towel...)

Padre: "To come home and enjoy the fruits of my labor; i.e. canned jam on toast.
Folks would jump through hoops to have those. [berries that have ripened right before our eyes]

 

okay I just paraphrased there.

 

He actually used some very colorful language that needed censoring. But that is the jist.

 

The old man really loves to pour cream over raspberries in a bowl and saturate them with sugar.

 

As do I.

 

Then he will notice all the apples that have dropped on the grass. Overnight they fall off the branches and are squishy applesauce consistency by late afternoon.

 

 

Madre: "Don't worry, Honey. The mower's will pick them up on Monday."

Me: (aren't we, as in J. and I, 'The Mowers' ?)

Unless we get a bee keeper's costume, I'm not going out there to weed, cut back vines from my blessed Rhubarb, or can.

And I need a new gardening stool. Mine is on it's last leg.

*Tragic Update! How stupid can I be? In the name of gathering raspberries and pictures for this blog,

 I got bit! !!!!!

 

Twice!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

I immediately made a paste:

Two teaspoons of Apple Cider Vinegar and then baking soda. Or should it have been baking powder?
Something I saw somewhere to help draw out venom.

 

J said:  "That garden is FORBIDDEN!

 

Tidbits for bites that I googled- have NO idea if any work:

Apparently I should have walked out there after spritzing myself with pure Vanilla.

Didn't. Sooo.  Now what?

 

Probably Lyme Disease.

 

DIY Spray

Mosquito Bites: This recipe from simplycadence.com had four ingredients (witch hazel, Listerine, apple cider vinegar and scented oil) but was still easy to make. Mix it all in a spray bottle, shake it up and spraysaway. The first obvious downside is that it has the strong odor — makes a really strong — odor.

 

 

 

Spit on it. has antibiotics in it apparently.

Make a past with mud if desperate.

Super hot water on it or hot compress immediately afterward. 

Vicks rubbed on the bite.

 

Insect Bites

Banana Peel rubbed on it...

 

too tired to research any more.

 

 

Love Your Brain, Like Kevin Pearce.

 Kevin Pearce.

 

 

Can you see the determination in his eyes? The future right in front of him, for the taking?

His eyes pierce your soul.

 

I so remember the intensity, drive, and excitement for the future!

His led him down this path....

 

 

 

A contender for the 09 Olympics, slated as one to rival Shaun White.

 

 

Guess what changed all that?

 

A TBI.

 

Not a traffic violation.

 

A Traumatic Brain Injury.

 

 

 

(now he will pierce your heart)

 

 He was practicing a double cork and nailed his noggin' on the half pipe.

 

Ouch.

 

His helmet saved his life.

 

The fall damaged his vision along with that important thing in his skull.

 

His family, The Pearce's live back east, where his father established a glass company called Simon Pearce, gathered round him. 

 

 

(Go to the web site and watch them make the beautiful pieces of art. Who knew a drinking glass could take that much effort? )

 

Oh, they also have a love your brain bowl.

 

 

 

 

 

All proceeds go to Kevin's foundation: Love your Brain.

Their mission:

 

Our mission is to remove the stigma from the term "mental health." The goal is to educate America

 

about mental health and bring the conversation out of the shadows and into regular life.

 

They also have another famous and amazing member of their family, David. (on K's right in above picture.)The mother, Pea, explained how David prepared them for their young son's dreams to shatter like glass right before their eyes- at age 22, I believe.

 

Watch it on the documentary: The Crash Reels.

(apparently still not available online yet. But there are showing in Europe and down under as the summer progresses)

 

It was played in Utah's backyard Sundance Festival this last Feb. Dang, that is when I fell and bumped my head. Compared to his whip slap on the lip of the half pipe.... oh, my.

I don't know how Pea endured watching him run the mountain since he was 5.

But when you have a helmet on.... you think you are somewhat safer.

 

Utah even got to have Kevin while he was:

 

In a Coma.

 

This is a universal sign for being bed-ridden I think.

 

It isn't fun.

 

His passion helped him get through months of rehab at Craig Hospital after awaking from his coma.

Located in Colorado, he retrained his body and endured eye surgeries, and more to even get to where he is at now.

 

Kevin assumed he would compete again. The documentary helps him see that he could die if he does. Watch and see what this amazing kid does with his life.

 

Okay!

 

Soap Box is officially sudzed up!

Enjoy the searches..... Kevin Pearce, Lucy Walker and her documentary on him, The Pearce Family, Glass Blowing in the beautiful Vermont area.

 

Sigh. One, day I will walk into their restaurant and have dinner with them.

it's that kind of destination.

And they are the kind of people you would want to meet.

 

 Or have them adopt you.

And your kid.

 

 

Love your Brains!

 

 

 

I am gonna need one of these.

 

 So will J.

 

 

Same Turn Out

One of the mysteries I have found from blogging, and not blogging, is that I have the same reader turn out. With the exception of my come back post and then some others. But on the whole, I have the same reader turn out.

 

So, if I were a library book, I'd still be checked out. Which I guess is the least any author hoped for in their life.

 

So I am having random mid morning thoughts. First of all there is cuteness. J. 's future employer or wife will love this one....

 

But he showed me a picture taken with a phone and he put 'Jaden and Amanda' above it.

 

That is the cutest thing.

 

Then again it could be a subliminal message to me that he wished he was canoeing down that river and will need my help to do so. And so I better keep with my almost post prednisone regimen.

 

Which entails tring to get passed the fact you were on prednisone. Whether by denial or trying to rehabilitate your brain and body like those suffering from major brain trauma. Except those of us on prednisone didn't fall down on our brains to mix up the wires, signals, and road ways that are all askewed.

 

Speaking of askew- that's all I've got this morning.

 

oh wait- one more thought that is on my mind. Did the Duchess and Prince William practice that baby hand off? Because that wasn't awkward at all. And every time we have a new baby in the family or when I first did, the handoff was almost a fumble.

 

I think they practiced that over and over  with a dummy baby because she checked out of the hospital so fast, I don't know how they could have practiced it in that amount of time.

 

He was a screamer though and so maybe they just got used to handing him back and forth to whoever would hold little George.