Boobs are in the Air!
The art of the double entendre...
Initially I missed the punny nature of my title.... you see, I've been assailed by the media talking about bras and breasts and fittings. This all stemmed from Oprah's now [in]famous bra show, I guess. My Mom decided to get herself some new bras, and we went shopping last weekend. She cited Oprah's insights as she was being measured by the efficient and friendly staff at Nordstrom. Then, today, a pal of mine at the WSJ sent me an article about Town Shop, the Upper West Side undergarment emporium extraordinaire. This shop will literally get your boobs in the air. I wish I could be that clever intentionally.
When I can afford nice bras again, maybe I'll go to Nordstrom. Or take another road trip to Town Shop, which supplied the hardwear for my wedding dress. (Thanks to my fabulous pal at the WSJ, again!)
The Demon Barber E went off to school this morning, promising to apologize to her erstwhile client. I'm still giggling. Luckily the housekeeper is here today, and the kindergarten-sized fistful of hair in the powder room trash can will disappear.
I think E may have also brought the first plague of the year home this past week. Baby O feels terrible, I'm stuffy, the Mom has achey sinuses, and E herself is coughing like a 65 y/o old lifetime smoker. Nice, huh?
Big Brother J is has a playdate this afternoon, and I've been charged with delivering his GameBoy to him at the bus stop when I go to get E. I think it's funny that not quite 7 y/o boys play GameBoy, each using his own machine, for a couple of hours, and call it a "playdate." When Jamie and I were that age, we were kicked out of the house with weather appropriate gear and a box of clothes and toys, and told not to come home until supper. Middle class suburbia versus upper class urban, I guess?
I've strayed from my initial topic. I do that.
Initially I missed the punny nature of my title.... you see, I've been assailed by the media talking about bras and breasts and fittings. This all stemmed from Oprah's now [in]famous bra show, I guess. My Mom decided to get herself some new bras, and we went shopping last weekend. She cited Oprah's insights as she was being measured by the efficient and friendly staff at Nordstrom. Then, today, a pal of mine at the WSJ sent me an article about Town Shop, the Upper West Side undergarment emporium extraordinaire. This shop will literally get your boobs in the air. I wish I could be that clever intentionally.
When I can afford nice bras again, maybe I'll go to Nordstrom. Or take another road trip to Town Shop, which supplied the hardwear for my wedding dress. (Thanks to my fabulous pal at the WSJ, again!)
The Demon Barber E went off to school this morning, promising to apologize to her erstwhile client. I'm still giggling. Luckily the housekeeper is here today, and the kindergarten-sized fistful of hair in the powder room trash can will disappear.
I think E may have also brought the first plague of the year home this past week. Baby O feels terrible, I'm stuffy, the Mom has achey sinuses, and E herself is coughing like a 65 y/o old lifetime smoker. Nice, huh?
Big Brother J is has a playdate this afternoon, and I've been charged with delivering his GameBoy to him at the bus stop when I go to get E. I think it's funny that not quite 7 y/o boys play GameBoy, each using his own machine, for a couple of hours, and call it a "playdate." When Jamie and I were that age, we were kicked out of the house with weather appropriate gear and a box of clothes and toys, and told not to come home until supper. Middle class suburbia versus upper class urban, I guess?
I've strayed from my initial topic. I do that.
Labels: Ramblings, The Carpet Bag
posted by Cameron | 11:47 AM
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