Scrapping together pieces of my life

and finding peace in the quilt

Me, my sister and my dad. It seems I was practicing my yoga moves at 5.

I've written about my beloved older sister, Sharon, here. Sharon was my half-sister on my father's side. Unfortunately, Sharon and my father were estranged for much of her childhood, but at 18, she came to live with us briefly. I was 5.

I adored her. She was a sweetheart. The story becomes complicated here; stick with me. My mother's half-brother Jim visited while on leave from the Navy. My father was ten years my mother's senior, Jim was likely about ten years younger than my mother, and Sharon was ten years younger than Jim. Lots of tens here. I wanted to mention the age differences so the story would line up.

Jim and Sharon fell in love at first site. If I have the story correct, they were married three months later and were only together for two or three visits before the ceremony. I remember my time with Sharon more than Jim because he could only visit when on leave from the Navy. But I have no doubt that I anticipated his visits almost as much as Sharon did.

Again, I don't recall this, but I have been told numerous times how humorous I was on one of Jim's visits when I announced that he could have brought me a surprise and that they made brassieres (a term for bras back in the day) for little girls like me.

I have to laugh at the idea of my announcement. Likely Jim was arriving with small tokens of his affection for Sharon. I must have felt a bit envious of my older sister for more reasons than one— well, two more reasons than one.

I would have to wait several years to earn the coveted brassiere, and it wouldn't arrive as a gift, but I was lucky enough to serve as their flower girl at their wedding in our tiny garage in San Bruno. Jim and Sharon shared an enduring love until Jim passed some years back.

I especially love the photo on the right, what an impression this moment must have made on me. And I have to give kudos to my mom... for a garage wedding we are all dressed to the nines.

When I dream of or yearn for something, I often giggle and hear myself saying, "You know, they make brassieres for little girls like me."

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This Christmas, I received the equivalent of a "brassiere for little girls like me." I've mentioned in previous posts that I worked as a landscaper for years in both my clients' gardens and my own. Being of small stature has often made it impossible for me to use the landscaping tools that make the job easier. In my younger years, I'd push through using some borderline tools for me. At 68, I have to honor the changes in my body and be mindful before I pick up a device that is out of my league, either too big or too heavy.

A few weeks before Christmas, Rick mentioned seeing a cordless mini chainsaw weighing only three pounds. I replied, "Really?" My interest was piqued, and I thought again, "You know, they make brassieres for little girls like me."

Turns out, Santa brought me a chainsaw this year, and after a few lessons about safety and use, I practiced using it the other day at the fire pit cutting up a friend's generously donated dry Christmas tree to burn. (Thank you, Laurie, for thinking of me.) You might remember I'm a bit crazed about fire. But with that said, burning a few branches of a dried Christmas tree in the safety of a pit surely demonstrates why it's so important to be careful with live trees in our homes at Christmas time.

Rick memorialized the occasion by taking a video of my delight with the chainsaw as well as our fire pit.

Have a great weekend, and I’ll be back next week sharing my podcast with fellow Substacker Patricia Meier about her book Forever Five, Adventures of the Ladybug Hunter. You won’t want to miss this.