Bra Shopping

     Page One Hundred Ninety-One.
     Would you like to hear a charming Women's Story? I don't know why I've been thinking about this old, family story lately, but I have.
     I'm the youngest of five kids, 2 girls and 3 boys. Now-a-days, we're all in our 50's and 60's. This story takes place in the 1970's when we were a smidgen younger than we are today. My sister Louise, who's the oldest child, was a bit non-centered at the time. My other sister, Lee, who's the next youngest before me, was born to be in charge of everything. So one day Lee went to buy some new bras. I guess her old ones wore out or whatever happens to bras when they get elderly. Now, she usually bought Louise her bras also. I'm not sure how this pattern established itself, but it did. In fact, Lee actually knew what size and style Louise wore, better than Louise did. (It just made sense as Lee was the one who always did Louise's bra shopping.) So when she went to the cash register at The May Company to pay, the sales lady inquired, out of curiosity, why she was purchasing 2 different sizes. "I always buy bras for my sister whenever I get some for myself. She not real good at picking out bras for herself."
     "Well aren't you a wonderful big sister?"
     "Actually, my sister is 6 years older than I am."
     According to Lee, the sales lady's expression was priceless. It was a mix of incredulity, curiosity and amazement. What's wrong... hadn't she ever sold bras to a hippy's little sister before?

French Waffles

     Page One Hundred-Forty-Five.
     Do you remember French Waffles? Last night, I was talking with my sister and she reminded me of the French Waffles we used to get at The May Company, here in Cleveland. This was back in the 1960's.
     We'd go shopping with our mother to The May Company department store, and often as a treat we'd go down to the basement where the candy counter, snacks and treats were located. There were all sorts of various chocolates; hot pretzels (of course); cotton candy; caramel corn and French Waffles.
     If you don't know what these things are, let me try to explain. First there was a thin, slightly sweet batter. In retrospect, I think the batter was probably similar to Pizzelle batter but maybe thinner. Then, there was the mold. It was about 5" wide and about 1" deep and the general shape of a rosette window. And, it was on the end of a long handle. The lady behind the counter would dip the mold into the large bowl of batter then immediately plunge it into hot fat where the batter would fry up. After a couple of moments, she'd remove the mold and the hot waffle, which was very crispy, would loosen and slide down onto the counter. She'd then dust it with lots of powdered sugar. Then, we'd crack the waffle into lots of small pieces and shove them anxiously into our waiting,watering mouths.
    I understand that in other parts of the U.S.A. these things can still be found. In fact, on the internet, I can purchase the molds and the ready to mix batter easily. (Then again, on the internet, I can purchase anything, including earthlings and kryptonite, easily.) I could go for a French Waffle right now as a matter of fact. Perhaps one of these days, I'll purchase said supplies off the net and I'll write a blog about my experience making home-made French Waffles.We all know that I'm the type who would.
     Incidentally, this blog is only ten months old and I've already figured out how to add illustrations. Isn't that cool?