Asepsis

Ana R. Marrero, M.D. -- my mother.

Mami is fervently hoping I--and everyone one--washes her or his hands right now. She believed very strongly in "asepsis"--she learned this in her medical school classes in Paris during the 1930's. She even had a photocopied sign pasted to a cabinet next to the kitchen sink, instructing her and everybody else who came into view to wash her/his hands. Did I pay attention? Not usually...

I've gotten much better at it over the past few years. And now it's really time to pay attention...to asepsis.

Let's hope and pray the world can contain this pandemic in the making!

The Postmortem of a Bra

The Postmortem of a Bra

Somewhere in between the pick-a-size paper towels and the cat food, my Valentino bra died today. I’d stopped wearing it, primarily because it super shapes (if you know what I mean). I’d noticed, however, that the dainty little satin bow that held the cups together was hanging on by an increasingly skimpy thread.

So today, when I stretched in that aisle at the little, shabby (yet genteel) Wisconsin and Newark Giant that is threatening to be replaced by a Mega Giant (and who knows how many more condominiums) within the next couple of years, the thread popped. I immediately thought of Swirl, the bra that had corseted me in “Training Wheels.”

I kept Swirl for several years. I guess I could stitch Valentino up.

It’s much more fun to dissect it…and to write this postmortem, instead.