The New Shoes

I have big feet. They used to range from a ten to an eleven. I used to have a bunion on my right foot. I live in Quebec, where women simply don't come in my size. They're all "petite" here. Elven. Sylphs.

This used to make it nearly impossible for me to find shoes. Add to that the complication of my height. I don't need high heels. I've seen women here who need high heels to reach the doorbell. That's not my issue.

We also didn't have a lot of money when I was a kid, so the thought of paying more that twenty dollars for a pair of shoes was unthinkable! So, there might have been shoes out there that fit me, but I never got a whiff of them!

Well, a few years ago I turned a corner. I had the bunion removed, and I started paying prime prices for my shoes. Nowadays, even in Quebec, shoe stores are stocking tens and elevens. I'm down to a ten, now that the bunion is a thing of the past. There still isn't the variety available that there is in sizes 5-7, but it's a lot better than it used to be.

So when I'd gone looking for several days in a row without buying any shoes, and I found a pair that gave my feet good support, that fit beautifully - just tight enough not to rub anything - that actually made my feel look SMALLER... well, I bought them.

I didn't (of course) mention this to Hubby. I was wearing them when he picked me up, and carrying the clearly-labelled bag from the store. I wore the shoes around the house for the next few days, and the bag stayed on the bedroom floor in plain sight - in fact, he actually had to step over the bag to get to and from his side of the bed...

Nevertheless, one night, just past midnight, I was awakened by a loud "AHA!!!!" right next to me. "what? I asked, sleepily. "You never mentioned FX LaSalle!" he snarled at me. "I wondered why there was insufficient funds when I went to buy the plywood!"

I considered my reply carefully. Between pointing out to him that he'd been walking over the bag, that I'd been wearing the shoes, that I work for a living, etc., I took the quiet side, rolled over, ignored him, and went back to sleep.

We got around to discussing the shoes a few days later in the car. And that's when it hit me - the truth about shoes.

Specifically, the truth about why women keep buying shoes.

Oh, sure, we can manufacture all sorts of "reasons." We wear multicolored outfits, we need matching shoes. There are many different varieties of shoes for different activities, etc etc etc... And these may be good reasons in and of themselves, but I found the TRUTH.

It's all about Cinderella.

We have it hidden in the back of our minds, you see, that if we can only find that PERFECT PAIR of shoes, then Mr. RIGHT will suddenly find us, and we'll live HAPPILY EVER AFTER!!!

The more I think about this, the more I think I've nailed it. See, the Prince liked DANCING. With those perfect shoes, we'll find the man who likes to dance! (Those guys are rare, always in demand, and worth their weight in gold.)

With those perfect shoes, we'll get driven in a golden carriage and treated like royalty! No more potscrubbing for us! We're well-heeled now!

I stand by this realization. On solid ground, on my two feet, beautifully arrayed in my new shoes.

Let's have some faith in the roof

All together now: "Let's have some faith in the roof!
Let it rain , let it pour, it won't leak any more,
If we only have faith in the roof!"

Years ago, I heard this song sung in a church I attended. Seems the church had had a few years of leaks and some shoddy jobs, and the song was written as a fundraiser to inspire people to fork out for a better roof.

When I was doing a Christmas play at McGill one year, I wrote some verses perticular to our faculty, which was undergoing it's seventh or eighth roof in about ten years...

And some friend of ours had severe roof difficulties one year, and I wrote them some verses.

Now it's our turn.

The current roof over our heads is not a day under thirty-five years old, possibly older. It's been patched so often it might actually qualify as a quilt. Every spring and every rain for the past eight or nine years, different spots have leaked - all on the southern side, which I guess just gets more exposure, or something. Every year poor Sean would get out the ladder, scrape off the gravel, try to figure out where the water was getting in, pour something along or into the crack, cover it over, climb down and wait for the next leak.

Once, we were sitting at the dining room table and there was a fine mist falling on us! A meter square of ceiling was releasing a mist most special effects guys would die for. Or perfume manufacturers.

Well, since I finally got enough cash together to get it fixed, we started calling the roofers. ONly to find out the price of fixing the roof was tied to the price of oil - oops, that there tar contains oil. Rats.

So Hubby & his Brother spent all this past hot weekend fixing things that weren't in the contract with the roofers, since we have exactly what was quoted, and not one red cent more.

So they sweated and heaved and grunted and sawed and hammered. If I could figure out how to put pictures in this blog thing, I could show you how eaten away some of the edges of the rafters were. Suffice it to say, between thirty-five years of occasional leaks becoming more and more regular, and several generations of ants, in some places there weren't any rafters left. Some pieces were still solid enough to come out as pieces, however, a gentle squeeze would cause it to shatter, and a gentle scrape produced sawdust.

Day after tomorrow the roofers arrive for real, and we all dearly hope the house will be dry till we are no longer able to live here. In honor of the occasion, I've scratched out a few verses, but there's really only one that matters.

"Now Hubby likes his feet on the ground.
And though his judgement's quite sound,
When you say the word ladder,
He looks a lot sadder,
And suddenly, he can't be found!"

All together now:

Let's have some faith in the roof.
Let's have some faith in the roof.
Let it rain, let it pour,
It won't leak any more,
If we only have faith in the roof!"

Save time - Drop Dead NOW

I hate that man I love!

A couple of years ago, he had to be taken to the hospital, because his blood sugar and his blood pressure were sky-high. He was throwing up in public places. They kept him overnight after stabilizing him. He's been "seeing" the endocrinologist ever since.

Six months ago, the doctor said his blood pressure was STILL too high, and gave him a second set of pills to take on top of the ones he was already taking.

He took them for about a week.

Today, he saw the doctor again. When he came back, I asked him how it went.

"Great!" he said. "My blood pressure is way down! He still thinks I'm taking that other set of pills!"

"You mean, you didn't TELL him you weren't taking them?" I asked, astonished.

"Of course not!," he replied, equally astonished.

I went away and fumed for a couple of minutes, then decided I'd give it the old college try. Try to get through to him that playing russian roulette with his blood pressure was a bad idea.

"Okay," I said, "let's approach this logically. Somebody calls you up with a computer problem. You ask them if they've done the lastest update. They say yes, they have. But the problem is still happening. In fact, they haven't done the update, but they keep saying they have."

He eyes me suspiciously.

"Well, which problem is easier to diagnose and treat," I then said. "An I-T problem, or the human body?"

Stubbornly, he says, "I don't know".

Stepkid, sitting across the room says, "A computer is easier to fix, Dad!" rolling his eyes.

"There you have it," I say. "Your son is smart enough to know! Okay then, so your blood pressure has dropped. That might be a good thing, and it might be lethal! But you're not giving the doctor the right information! He can't diagnose it, because you won't tell him the truth!"

"Sorry," says hubby, not looking particularly sorry.

So I lost it, and said, "Never mind telling me you're sorry! Phone the GD doctor back and TELL him you haven't been taking the pills! Or else stop wasting everybody's time and DROP DEAD NOW."

Friends of hubby - can any of YOU get through to him? How can such a smart man be such an IDIOT?????!!!!!