I think I must have walked around the world at least once...

I think I must have walked around the world at least once, or so I thought. I signed out a pedometer from our local library on Canada Day and decided to record my steps just to see if it is possible. Well I'm so tired at the end of what I thought was a long walk, and it's only a couple of thousand steps. I read that you should do a min. of 10,ooo steps to make any difference in your health. Well I've been doing it for years and I don't seem to lose any weight, all I get for my trouble is tired. I'm seriously thinking of stopping and being a non- walker. I just don't have the commitment necessary to join a gym or go on a diet, and I refuse to pay for getting tired. So what to do with this hangover.*

I like to refinish and paint chairs, they are usually old wooden chairs with unusual designs. I have noticed that the seat portion of the chairs was generally much smaller than the chairs we have today. So we are all getting bigger, not just me.

Getting back to painted chairs, I think I like to do this because I always feel tired and the prospects of sitting and resting is so appealing. So if you have chairs of a variety of ages check them out re: size. Maybe I'll just buy bigger chairs and not worry about losing my hangover.

The chair in the photo is my winter version, it usually sits at the front door enabling us to put our boots on with ease. Huh! but you have to bend over, but that's another blog. What prompted me to talk about chairs. I have my eye on a chair in my husband's aunt's basement. I can see a lovely watermelon design on it. Do I dare ask?

*a hangover is the part of your butt that does not fit onto the chair, thus you hangover.

Not the ruby slippers

Today as I was walking along, thinking, about my feet. You know you're getting old when you think about your feet. When you're young you think about shoes. Now I do still think alot about shoes. I never pass a shoe store without looking carefully and thoroughly at every shoe. Anyway, getting back to feet, they hurt. I can remember very clearly wearing shoes with heals like the one in my photo and higher, and with less shoe all day at work, even when I was very pregnant, and yes by ten in the evening, after an eight hour shift in the shoe department my feet were tired but I could not say they hurt like they do today. I still wear high heels, not everyday, and I think that's the problem. You know when you dress up you always feel better than when you're in your grubbies. Well I do anyway. I think that might be my answer, I need to get a job in the shoe department and buy more shoes and then my feet will get the message. Well maybe not. I've decided that the shoes make the gal. You could be wearing jeans and runners and set the tone, wear the same pair of jeans and nice shoes and see how that makes you feel. I think the most memorable shoes I own were platforms. I still took the bus in those days, and I walked to the bus stop most mornings. One morning Barb my sister and I were running (in my platforms) to the bus, down Red Hill Creek Hill. And I flew. I had bandages on both my knees for many many days. Thank goodness for midi dresses as they were then called. When we moved to Etobicoke I got a job at the Robert Simpson Company in the shoe dept. We all had great shoes in those days. I still have some basic shoes from back then. Why is it that I can't find a pair of shoes that are just right, I always seem to settle. I don't even do Pay Less, for me that is a waste of a shoe shopping adventure. It has to be leather uppers and preferably leather soles, although I'm o.k. with rubber for safety sake. NO NATURALIZERS, I'm appalled that my young nieces wear them. For me the perfect shoe is any Amalfi. I have never seen an Amalfi I didn't love. Now think about it. Think of famous shoes. Cinderella and the glass slipper, found her prince wearing them. Dorthy and the Ruby slippers, look where those shoes took her. My mothers $500 shoes come to mind. I can't really remember what I wore for my graduation, but I know I had knock out shoes. I'm going to do something about my sore feet, I just don't want to live without great shoes. So for the time being let's skip down the yellow brick road with Dorthy and those red shoes. And think of this, if a man asks you what a woman wants you must answer "Shoes, lot and lots of shoes". (remember this line, it'll be int he book)

Freshly squeezed boobs

Well today was one of those days that you get a call from your local Women's Health Center and go for a mammogram, and ultra sound of your breasts. As my family history dictates, I must go for a mammogram every year, and on occassion I get called back, and on occasion I have an ultra sound to clarify some mystery radiologists find. When I walked into the clinic it gives you the feeling of a Spa. Spa my a..ss. Pardon my French. Of course your change room has a lovely bench and a really nice sink, where you are asked to wash up. Nice towels rolled up just like a spa, pot pour and all. The receptionist is polite and although somewhat robotic as accommodating as one can expect. Then and elderly volunteer escorts you to "The Room". I wait, and wait, and wait, it seems there is some difficulty with my file, like "IT IS MISSING". So I get to wait some more until everyone in the department takes their turn looking for it. Finally someone decided to tell me. My momma didn't raise no fool, I kind of figured it out, they lost it. I approached the receptionist asking how much longer I would be, as now people are starting to leave for the weekend, and I just inquired as to, did they return it by chance in error to the Credit Valley Hospital, which is not where I was. OH! she said, maybe. Again I suggest rescheduling the appointment, but they say "no just give us 10 more min." So I do. They finally find it in the out going mail pile and then I'm in. I'm under the usual squash, and a repeat squash just to make sure. And then we'd like you to have an ultra sound. So off I to that, and then you listen to the technician hyming and hahing like she's found a lump the size of an orange or bigger. You clean up and wait, and wait. We are now into hour # 3. And then you get called back in just for one more look, The DOCTOR would like to take a look. I'll never forget waiting with an elderly lady one time. She came out with this big smile on her face, saying "I've always been told my breast were spectacular. (I think the report is "there is nothing outstanding). I thought with all these call backs I better get someone say my boobs were spectacular or else. They sure were sore. Well no outstanding news, not yet anyway.
Recently one of my painting pals was diagnosed with breast cancer on one breast then on another, and then a hysterectomy for good measure, then some skin cancer all in a time frame of 3 months. So you can imagine what was going through my mind with all this waiting. My painting pal attended a fund raising event where they were selling these Breast self-examination kits. It is the most amazing invention, it's a gel pack you can feel grains of salt like they were the size of rice. The intention is for you to feel a lump when it is still very small, or not to miss a small lump. I think if and when I get the green light after all this squeezing, I shall routinely use my kit. With all those pink ribbons in stores and so much fund raising going on to end breast cancer days, I wonder how close we are. I sure hope they improve their mammography equipment, I'll be sore for a week now. So don't touch my freshly squeezed...

photo insert or a kizmo I purchased to check my boobs.