tracyswartz.com

A close-up picture of JimJim from my not-so-great phone’s camera.  His little toofsomes are so adorable.  He claims that he is not a model. He is a ferocious feral killer who strikes fear into the hearts of birds, squirrels (who I’ve seen laugh at him, but shhh), and mouses everywhere.  He doesn’t want photographic evidence of domestication. He says this, but when I’m outside calling him, he runs to me meowing the whole way.  And, he’s not opposed to traveling by biped.  Sure, JimJim, whatever, the whole yard knows you’re a domesticated cat who likes cuddling and snuggling with bipeds, has an indoor bathroom, and is fed copious amounts of food.

There are 35 school days left before summer vacation, but who’s counting?  I am!

Fog is crawling across the farm field.  The morning has a strange and mysterious color to it.  Perfect for keeping the lights off while writing or the perfect set-up for a horror movie.  This is why I avoid those sorts of movies unless it has a damn good story.  Tempt me with a good thrilling story and then it’s a few nights of scary dreams and ensuring one icy foot is jammed between The Hubs’ warm thighs. My imagination likes to spew weird things much like an excited monkey throwing poo.

Oh! I saw a bald eagle yesterday on my way to The Land of Lunch.  It flew down in front of Phryne (the truck I drive) and then swooped back into a tree.  They are such majestic beings.  It was probably after a tasty morsel and had its dining experience ruined by a stupid biped barreling down the road.  The stupid biped was running on the edge of might be late to work if I don’t put the peddle to the metal.  I can still feel the warm sting of its annoyance prickling my skin.

Thank the GAWDS for writers who share their hard-earned wisdom and knowledge on the Interwebs.  I don’t know what I would do without them. That story I’m working on?  It felt off.  Welp, I had successfully left my protagonist off stage and supporting characters took over.  I found the protagonist sulking in the corner sucking his thumb. He was coaxed back into the story with promises of rewrites and fleshing out more parts of his story.  Plus, I had to ask nicely for input such as what did he want to learn from this adventure.  Surprisingly, you can teach an old Devil new things.  Now you know the identity of the protagonist in my story.  Yup. That’s all you’re getting for now.

Probably why I love it so much!

Why are there two posts in one week?

I had more to share than I could fit in the bra post.  Oh yeah!  BRAS. Did you know there is such a thing as a sister-size in Bra-ville?  It’s bad enough the mathematical calculations required to figure out your correct size.  Oh, no.  Let’s add on more computations so you can try on other sizes too! Let’s make it cute and call it a Sister-Size.  Womxn will love it.  No. No, we don’t love it.  There’s enough nonsense we deal with when shopping for clothes.  I’m all for a no-clothes culture.  Wear them only when you need to keep warm, to keep flopping appendages safe from getting pinched and bumped, and of course, waggling in someone’s personal space. Sure, this opens up a need for new etiquette, but I think we could handle it.  Who am I kidding?  Wasn’t there a big kerfuffle around wearing something over our noses and mouths?  Oh yeah, there was.  I can and will keep dreaming.

I need to stop blathering on over here and get a bit of story writing accomplished before breakfast and heading off to The Land of Lunch.

May your day be free of waggling appendages, uncomfortable bras, and hooey-ish felines.

hOgs ‘n fIsHes,

Tracy

If you are a womxn you know how enjoyable shopping for bras can be.  All I ask for is cups that support and lift the girls.  I don’t want skin squeezing out in places it shouldn’t be.  I don’t want another bosom in the middle of my back.

I had to buy new bras, surprise surprise.  Several months ago I went through this process.  After getting measured by a professional bra tech support person and purchasing good-fitting bras, I swore off the cheap ones forever.

Ah, how quickly I forgot the misery of bra shopping.

I measured.  I had the Hubs (all too eager to help) measure.  I ordered bras.  They came.  I tried.  I cried.  The band size fit too tight.  GAH!  I went to Walmart where in addition to torturing myself with finding a bra, I had the added pleasure of finding a pair of jeans.  Yeah!

Lawd have mercy on us all.

Walmart was unsurprisingly a disappointment in the bra department (almost in the jean department but I found a pair).  I headed to Meijer.  Someone decided to get rid of the fitting rooms.  That’s when I remembered the great bra fiasco and my sworn oath to not go through this ever again.  I put those dumpling holders back where I found them and headed to Torrid. This is where I purchased the last sets of bras which were now too big.  I put it off for way too long.  The girls were swimming around in the cups trying to ooze their way out the top when I leaned forward.  Sometimes I caught them sneaking out under the band.

I love this store.  The sales associates are so helpful.  Indeed, I measured the band size correctly.  I had a slap of reality between the cup size I wanted to be and the cup size I am.  The dumplings hadn’t shrunk.  They have changed.  I can almost roll them up like a sock. Isn’t that a great visual? Maybe they’re headed southwards towards the belly button neighborhood?  Is the weather better down there?   Maybe the ultimate goal is to be on neighborly terms with my buttocks?   I just don’t know.  I do know they like to spend time sneaking into my armpits if I’m not careful.  Speaking of buttocks, they are slowly inching their way closer to the back of my knees. This is the exact opposite of my sexy senior goals.  If this keeps up, I’ll have to roll and fold things and hold it all in place with clips.  Or maybe I’ll have to invest in Spanx, GAWD forbid.

That’s not me, but I sure feel that way wearing this bra!

The picture above is one of the bras I bought.  It’s heavenly! It’s so cute!  I went where I hadn’t gone in too many to count years.  I bought an underwire and the girls LOVE it.

I am worried. The lowest band size Torrid carries is a 38.  In the future, I won’t be able to get my bra fix there.  I’m going to have to find a new bra dealer.   Any recommendations are appreciated!

I couldn’t resist a little trip down the Googles to find alternate names for bras.  Here ya go:

Double-Barreled Booby Holsters

Upper-Decker Flopper-Stopper

Nipple Knapsacks (this name is more appropriate for pasties, IMHO)

Dumpling Holders (my new favorite)

Booby Blankets

Honker Hankies (This one confuses me.  Does this refer to tissue storage?  Does it refer to someone blowing their nose into someone’s bosom? (Gross!) OR does it refer to motorboating? Please enlighten me.)

Breast Bags (I find this hilarious. Don’t ask me why I just do.)

Over The Shoulder Boulder Holders

Of course that led to some memes that I’m sure most womxn can relate to:

Hogs ‘n Fishes,

Tracy

It’s spring vacation time at the Land of Lunch and I’m living for it!

I love to-do lists.  They help with the overwhelm when there are lots of things to do.  I can break them down into manageable bits.  I don’t feel fixed or static with them. It’s easy enough to move things to another day when needed.  They help me create space in the day for the things that are important.

I have a confession.  I binged watched season 2 of Bridgerton.  It’s my guilty (no longer secret) pleasure.

The trees in the Flatlands are beginning to bud!  There’s been teases of warmer weather to come and then BAM.  We’re back to cold and having to run the furnace. I’m eager to open up the house and let the wind take care of the dusting.

The Lair feels so different after a re-arrange.  I took down a couple of tables.  I have tubs to organize the shelves better.  The desk now faces the backyard and the farm field beyond that.  All that’s missing is a disco ball.

I’m still working on the book!

The M for May, J for June, and a J for July led to a new A for April.  A new can of creative worms has cracked open.

And that led to making a little thing for a co-worker…

I made a color chart of the markers because the color of the lid doesn’t quite match the color I want on the paper.  That was frustrating.  I’d pull a color thinking it would look a certain way and nope.  It wasn’t.  This is so much better!

I made the color chart on special marker paper.  I have yet to use it for a drawing.  It’s too precious!  It is expensive!  I’ll get over it.

Penny, “Draw me like one of your French poodles.”

There is the real possibility that as I drop more weight, my boobs and butt will be in closer proximity to one another like they could be neighbors and have coffee.

This made me laugh.  I can relate.

I LOVE this!

There’s turkey broth cooking on the stove. The kitchen smells marvelous. This will be cooked, cooled, the fat removed, and then I’ll use the pressure canner to put it up for later use.

Seeds are planted! This year, when they’ve grown into baby plants, they’ll be fed Fish Poo Stew. It’s water from The Hubs’ fish tank. I water the other houseplants with it and they love it. We still wonder why we didn’t think of using it sooner.

A weed is a plant that has mastered every survival skill except for learning how to grow in rows.
~Doug Larson~

Hogs & Fishes!
Tracy

The sun, before disappearing, took up the sky in a glorious orb of orange redness.  In other words, it was HUGE and beautiful and made me pause for a minute to catch my breath.  It was gorgeous.

I heard that Daylight Savings may become a permanent thing.  We tried this in 1974 and it only lasted a year.  I hope it lasts longer this time around, at least until I’m nothing but dust and someone’s long-ago memory.

Holy CRAP, I love alcohol markers!  Now that I’ve set aside getting gourdy with it, I like to draw while sitting in the living room at night.  I forgot how relaxing and addicting it can be.  I don’t want to stop.  Before I know it, 10 PM has rolled around which means that the 4:30 AM alarm is going to go off far too quickly.

This brings me to the love of weekends where there is no 4:30 AM alarm and time for naps.  I love a good nap.

This is what I came up with to make a sticker for my to-do journal.  In my world, April showers bring May monsters in the shape of flowers.  The next step is to digitize the color, create a border and turn it into a sticker.  A hot minute, not cold nor luke-warm has passed since my last photo manipulation schooling from The Bun.  And, I took crappy notes.

One of my Sisters-In-Lunch thought I brought in a voodoo doll when I was showing some of them the dark unicorn.  Bless her heart, she will say things before thinking.  She is the sweetest help you if she can type of person.  One has to take what she says with a grain of salt, sometimes it calls for a whole shaker full.  Thankfully, I was reminded of that by a much kinder than I sister-in-lunch.  Later, she apologized in her unique way. That led to this conversation.

Me:  “I don’t bring my voodoo dolls to work.  I keep them at home.”
Her:  “Do you have one of me?”
Me:  “I do now!”

We had a good laugh and unnecessary snark and bad feelings were avoided.  I call that a win in The Land of Lunch.  There should be a reality show called, “The Real Lunch Ladies of NW Ohio.” I’m glad to be the Governor of Snacks.  It’s only me, the refrigerators, the freezer, and the snacks to contend with.  Although, one refrigerator likes to get chatty, and then I can’t hear what the student says.  But when I do…

Three male students approached the snack room counter.

Student 1:  She’s really hot….
Me:  Did you just say, “She’s really hot?”
Student 1: Uhm, yeah.
Me:  Really!  You shouldn’t talk about your lunch lady that way.  It’s embarrassing!

He turned red and sputtered while the remaining two laughed and teased him.

I offer these services and no one has taken me up on it.

Free removal of the annoying chocolate chips from the chocolate chip cookies
Free removal of that pesky fudge filling in the chocolate cookies
Free shake, stir, or drop-kick delivery of carbonated beverages

We all know that March 17th is traditionally known as St. Patrick’s Day.  It is also St. Gertrude’s Day.  Who is St. Gertrude?  She is the patron saint for cats and gardeners.  I’m not of Irish descent, don’t care for green beer, and can take it or leave it on a jiggs dinner.  I do adore cats and am a gardener so I’m all for St. Gertrude’s day becoming a thing.

There are bits of bright green peeking through on the sides of the ditch. More birds are out and about. The vultures are here. And, the seagulls have arrived in the grocery store parking lot screeching, gliding, and demanding food.  The signs of spring in NW Ohio.

I cherish my girlfriends.  They make me laugh.  They help me be a better person. Hey! I just realized they are quite the enablers when it comes to my hooeyishness. Honestly, I don’t know what I would do without them.  On that note I leave you with this:

Friends come and go, like the waves of the ocean, but the true ones stay, like an octopus on your face. ~ unknown

Hogs & Fishes,

Tracy