D/h is home from camping. Tired and sore, but soothed. There’s a Cherokee story of how some people came to be bears. The *extremely* short version is, a boy went into the woods and saw it was a good way to live, and so he took his family and as they walked out of the village for the last time, they were transformed. That’s my husband. He doesn’t get to go often enough (none of us do), but he is sure to carve out a weekend at least once a year and drag his friends screaming into the woods (well, maybe not screaming, but it sounds good.) They go and bond over fishing and later whiskey and fire and come back all civilised. It’s good for them.
Monkey and I lazed around while D/h was gone. We ate all kinds of junk food and sugar, then went and rented ‘Monsters vs Aliens’ and had pizza while we watched it. We loved it. My favorite part is when the girl is carrying her boyfriend with his broken ankle, niiice. And all the random references. And that Steven Colbert was the president. Monkey was highly amused with the whole thing, but especially the end with Bob shaking the Jello under Derrick’s nose as he walked away. It’s his new thing- he makes the face and holds his hand out while doing the walk (and the sound). All in all, a good time.
There’s something to be said for comfortable shoes. It goes like this:
And so it was that I stayed up til 2 last night surfing blogs and finding new ones, and lo 10am came extra early and I did have to drag my sleepy ass out of bed to help out with a friend’s cousin’s baby shower. And I did, and got a shower. And it was good…. I don’t know the cousin, but my friend needed an extra pair of hands to do stuff so I told her ‘no problem, I’m there.’ The shower was Wizard of Oz themed, and everyone was told ‘wear red shoes and bring a broom’. Being the literal person I am, that’s what I aimed for. Problem is the only pair of red shoes I own happens to be a pair of Mary Janes with 3 inch heels on them. (Strangely, I bought them for my Grandma’s funeral- she’d have loved them.) Which is totally cool if I wore heels regularly. Or if it was only for an hour or so (which is what I expected.) BUT. After about 4 hours running around making drinks, collecting plates, refilling stuff, and generally standing around my feet were in utter rebellion. And I think my calves have gone on strike. When I finally took them off it hurt to put my foot flat on the floor. What is wrong with me????? Lack of planning, that’s what. Having been a waitress, as well as having numerous other stand-all-day jobs, I know better. Next time I’m just a helping hand at ANY event I can assure you I will be in flat shoes. Even if it’s only for 10 minutes. Yes I will.
Course now that I’m thinking about it, I did something similar one other time. We went to one of Henry Rollins’ spoken word shows years ago. I was told by someone who (thought they) knew that there were tables and the crowd would all be seated. So I wore heels. Which turned out to be terribly foolish. They weren’t quite as tall as the Mary Janes, but standing in one place in them for hours on end hurt ridiculously nonetheless.
So, lessons learned this weekend:
Hope ya’ll had a fabulous weekend. 🙂
*Yes, I know, 10 isn’t early for normal people.