Thursday, January 20, 2011

[ We're Oldies but Goodies ]*

2010 was definitely the year that David and I turned OLD.

January 2010: Dave kicked off the year by destroying his knee.  (I still need to tell that story--oh, it is a doozie.) Next came the stroke brace for his paralyzed foot.  Both resulted in his first patches of grey hair.  He's my silver fox.  Grrr . . .

March 2010: A whisker started growing out of my cheek. Not a rouge hair.  A white WHISKER. It is the thickness of a thin fingernail.  It gets plucked about every 3 weeks.   Nothing says "mortality" like your first female whisker.

August 2010: Orthopedic shoes changed my life.  They were purchased out of necessity; We were photographing so many weddings and at the end of the nights, my whole body would be SO sore.  The obvious solution was to get some practical arch-supporting, back-stabilizing shoes.  I was willing to look past their physical appearance. If these shoes were a high-school girl, the guys would say they had a great personality.  But, oh, they felt so good.  

Just in case you start to wonder how old-womanish these things could actually ever be, let me share a little story with you.  While assisting a grandmother of a bride onto stage to shoot her portraits with the couple, I looked down and noticed our feet were right next to each other on the step.  We had on--no exaggeration--Identical footwear.  Identical. Oi' Vey.

Was I discouraged? Heck no! Nothing could pull me away from these gifts from heaven.

It did not take long for me to start wearing them publicly.

October 29, 2010: Someone in a drive-through window said, "Have a great day, ma'am."  The "ma'ams" have continued steadily since. Thanks for that dagger through my heart. I could have kicked that "kid" with my orthopedic shoes, but I couldn't run the risk of damaging them.  That arch-support has grown to mean too much to me.

December 2010: I discovered that there are two very important reasons robes should be worn 24-hours-a-day:
One: The increased level of warmth is unbeatable, and
Two: You have plenty of pocket-space to carry your phone, pens, notepad, water bottle and Metamucil.

Also in December I slipped on ice on our front step.  (Yes, I was wearing "the" shoes.  To work. With jeans. ) I flew through the air like the ditzy girls always do in the awful romantic comedies and landed on my arm.  The pain was intense and I was afraid if I stood up too fast, I might get light-headed, so I laid on our sidewalk screaming out at the top of my lungs, "Help me, Lord! Lord, Help me!" repeatedly.  I MAY have even been using an accent like on the mini-series Roots.  Clearly, I felt my slip on the ice was comparable to being sold into slavery and receiving whippings. I seriously need to get a grip.  (No pun intended.)

And, to further illustrate the point that we are now old, I just spent 15 minutes staring at this computer screen trying to figure out where in the world I was going with this whole thing. There was definitely a reason I was telling all of this useless info, but somewhere along the way I forgot what that reason was.

If I do remember what it was, I will continue.  Until then I think it is about time to go take care of that pesky whisker.


Unknown said...

hahaha. I love your stories! Thanks for the smile.

The Hankinson's said... way....I think it's safe to say you and David are in your prime!!! love you two!

katie davis said...

I literally just laughed out loud in the middle of a crowded room full of dead silence. I guess I only have myself to blame for reading this during an american academy of pediatrics conference. The part that really got me was imagining you laying on the sidewalk screaming for God to help you:) thank you also for being honest about your whisker. You're very brave:)


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