fromthemouthofmoi

Photo courtesy of Dr. Brian Glatt When I was younger and had the chance to walk around half undressed as only the young can do, strangers would often come up to me, with face screwed in a knot of fright, point and ask: What's wrong with your armpits? I stare at other women's breasts, constantly on the lookout, seeing where mine stand in this self inflicted imaginary lineup of perfection. I used to notice cleavages a lot because I didn't seem to have one. I have one now because I figured out: It's all in the bra, baby. I also notice women who have no need for a bra, and if I tell you the truth here, right now, I harbour great big green, smoldering stinking envy for these women. I hate them.  I've been shackled in a bra since the age of 6 months and women who can traipse around braless just get on my nerves. I inherited my grandmothers breasts, and if you ask me on what side that grandmother was, I will say: It doesn't matter because on both sides each ...

For Cliff W. (because your favourite word is in here) Going into my kitchen is impossible without bringing  Simon Gerard  with me. Simon was a master chef, exquisite painter, teacher, raconteur, musician, carpenter and someone I consider as having been a dear friend. I met him through another childhood friend, Maud McKenna-Sugg when I was in my early 20's. At the time Simon was living in 'The Pink House" which was on his grandfather  Cushman Haagensen 's property. That little house was the cutest thing you ever saw. It had four rooms and each room was a step or two down from the next room. Cushman and his wife Alice lived in 'The Big House" only feet away. What struck me about Simon's family then, as it does now, is how absolutely talented they all were. A high value was not simply placed on education, but something about their rearing allowed for each of his family members to be fully respected whatever their chosen pursuits were. This was especially ...