Showing posts with label #shoes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #shoes. Show all posts

Sunday, September 22, 2019

Working the room




Last night there was a wedding reception for some of Jordan’s closest friends. They married some months ago in a small, family ceremony and just had the reception last night at La Puertita (the chapel) at Joe T. Garcia’s. I was pleased to be invited, though Jordan had some words of caution. Basically, she said she and Christian would “park” me at a table while they mingled and socialized. In my day, we called that “working the room,” basically moving around the room, chatting briefly with this one and that, never getting caught in a long conversation, meeting new people. A networking skill that takes a bit of practice, but before the walker I was pretty good at it. (Maybe I should divide my life into before and after the walker—naw, I have better divisions.)

True to her promise, they parked me at the first table inside the door, and I was a captive because Jordan folded my walker and stuck it against a wall out of my reach. I need not have worried about solitude though—since I couldn’t work the room, much of the room came to me. I am so blessed to be friends with many of my children’s friends. A steady stream of people came to give me a hug, sit for a minute in the chair next to me, share people-watching with me. The bride’s mother, whom I’ve met, came over to make sure someone would fetch me a cheese nacho, and the bride’s father, whom I’d not met, came and sat for a chat. So did both her sisters, and the groom wandered over twice to be sure I was taken care of.

A couple of wives I’d not met—both from our neighborhood—came to chat, saying they knew all about me and my books (nice bit of flattery) and one husband I’m fond of settled in for a political discussion (we agree heartily!). Jordan’s BFF, David, was solo because his wife was in Dallas, so he sat next to me for longer periods of time. He’d wander away—to work the room, I suppose—and then come back, and we shared some good laughs.

When the buffet opened, Jordan brought me a plate (how could she forget I love those beans?). David and Christian settled on one side of me, Jordan and Amye on the other,  with Marj and Colman across the table, and I met some folks, also around the table who were new to me. The food was predictable and familiar—it’s good to have “the dinner” every once in a while.

The young people dropped me off at home about 9:30 and went on to party, although the bride had suggested I could party with them and be the designated driver. David pointed to my glass of wine and said, “Too late for that.” I was glad to be home but oh so glad I went to the party.

It was a social weekend. Friday night, some new neighbors came for supper. Jordan, Christian, and I collaborated on the cooking—she made mashed potatoes, he roasted a tenderloin and made sauces, and I made a big, green salad that, believe it or not, sits in the fridge overnight, plus a goat cheese/wasabi appetizer. We had fun getting to know these people—seems when you first meet people you always have so much to talk about. She is a stay-at-home mom of four (I could relate to that) and he, a surgeon at the county hospital, so we had a bit of talk about the new medical school. All in all, lots of fun—and, again, lots of laughter.

Now to settle down to work.
Chandry and Jordan showing off their high heels.
How do they walk in those things?




Thursday, April 27, 2017

My Dancing Shoes





I bought dancing shoes last night. Okay, they’re not—they’re shoes to start me on the road to dancing again, good, serviceable shoes that support my ankles, lessen my tendency to walk on the side of my left foot, and help my feet heal, particularly the swollen left one. They are, forgive me, plain, ugly shoes. Serviceable. That word keeps going through my mind.

They come from a store recommended long ago by the podiatrist I see and known for their serviceable (there’s that word again) shoes. I resisted when the doctor first mentioned, but now I find that tendency to walk on the side of my foot increasing (it’s called pronating). The saleslady, Nita, was skilled, knew what she as talking about. Subie, the friend who drove me there, kept finding cuter shoes, but Nita nixed them—they didn’t offer the right support, they weren’t deep enough for my foot, etc. The ones she showed me were the only ones in the store that she recommended for me at this time, and no, they weren’t the most expensive. Nita held out hope that in six months I can get a cuter pair. She even intimated I might gradually work my way up to sandals.

“You aren’t going to wear these without socks, are you?”

My answer: “Yes.”

She launched into a discussion of how dangerous blisters, etc., are, especially when you have neuropathy and can’t feel them. Dire visions of infection and worse danced in my head.  I succumbed and bought two pairs of diabetic socks (no, I’m not diabetic), which she said would help the swelling because of the way they’re woven. To cheer me she threw in a pair of turquoise laces and a multicolor pair.

Subie meanwhile launched a full pr campaign about how sturdy the shoes are, how much cuter they looked with socks, how much steadier I already was walking while wearing them. All this was good until we were headed home and her car phone rang. It was on speaker, and Subie said “I just took Judy to SAS to get shoes.”

“Oh, sorry,” was the reaction. All Subie’s pr campaign vanished into thin air.

Today going to lunch, Betty laughed heartily and then said how glad she was I’m being so sensible, etc. It was too late.

The best comment came from a young female physician whose birthday we celebrated with happy hour and dinner tonight. “I wear those every day,” she said. “They’re the only thing my feet can stand.”

Another food day: lunch at the relatively new Heim Barbecue, now that the lines have dwindled. I found the chopped beef good, the potato salad and cole slaw outstanding. Still have half a sandwich in the fridge. Then tonight we had happy hour at the Wine Haus (with slices of a decadent mousse cake), followed by dinner at Chadra. Still full from lunch, I had tomato/basil soup and a salad and couldn’t finish either one.

Now I’m toddling off to bed, much work left undone.