In which the authors know the words to far too many classic rock songs

So, the melancholy truth found yesterday was that — though I was cleared for shoes, my beloved Dansko oxfords did not fit me.  Well.  The right foot fit just as always, but the reconstructed left foot — did not.  This was lowering, to say the least, and I was cast into Deep Despair until Steve came home from running errands with a pair of oversized fleece-lined men’s slippers that the surgeon’s preferred insoles fit, so I was able to lose the surgical shoe which was Just. So. Wonderful.

This morning, deciding that solving the shoe problem was Priority One, we took ourselves to Laney Wellehan in Augusta, where the manager and podiatry specialist took me in hand, and speedily found me a pair of Clark women’s pull ons, in wide, with a nice broad toe box. The manager also gave me tongue pads and heel pads for the right shoe, which is, as you’d imagine, a little large.

Shoes achieved, we went up the hill to Pier One, where I wandered about and stared at All The Stuff.  I have loved Pier One since a young girl, and Pier One in All its Potlatch Finery is not to be missed; it’s better than the Macy’s parade.  After about 45 minutes of wandering the store in amaze, my foot started to ache, so back we went to the car, and Steve took us for a drive out through Monmouth, up Mount Pisgah Road, through Wayne, Jay, Wilton, Farmington, Norridgewock, and so to home, and lunch, and catching up on work and correspondence.  During our ride, the predictive mileage meter went from predicting that we would need gas in 310 miles to needing gas in 380 miles.  The predictive mileage meter probably amuses me more than it should.

While we drove, we sang along with whatever was on Sirius Vinyl and/or Cassette.  Very probably we heard songs to which we did not know all the words, but there were far more to which we knew every word.  Yes, yes, I hear you, there in the back — if only we would use our power for good.

One thing became apparent as we traveled up and down the world, and that is — I’m going to have to have a refresher course in driving. Sitting in a stable chair for eight weeks has given me a Whole New, and not entirely useful, reading on how close other vehicles are, and our relative speeds.  Well.  Something to do.

…and that’s what we’ve been up to.  Hope your day was as pleasant.


5 thoughts on “In which the authors know the words to far too many classic rock songs”

  1. Oh, congratulations, I am happy for you! My father is currently enduring the No Walking or weight-bearing rule, as he recovers from ankle replacement surgery. He can zip around pretty well on the knee scooter, though, and is in less pain than before, so happiness for medical miracles!

  2. Speaking of shoes, my poor old feet endured years of narrow pointy toe shoes. The end result was hammer-toes so bad that the doc recommended men’s shoes for the roomier toebox. Imagine my delight to find a men’s version of the SAS shoe I had been wearing.

  3. Re “…managed on crutches.” After ACL replacement surgery in 1995 or thereabouts, my wife went to work &, getting tired of endless wallslides to increase knee flex, I filled a clothes basket & crutch-kicked it down the hall to the stairway. Not being particularly confident about using crutches on steep stairs, I sat on the top stair, reached aforementioned basket way out & dropped it on the landing below, slid down step & step, crawled around the landing, & repeated the process to the floor below. Having remembered to drag my crutches along, I retrieved them & crutch-kicked the basket to the laundry room & did my laundry. Dragging the whole mess back upstairs was – ahem – not so elegant, but I managed. Try that on a knee-scooter! Hah!

    But hey, I’m due for a knee replacement now. Fortunately my current abode is all one floor. I’ll probably still use crutches as my in-the-house scooter driving would result in damaged walls.

    Note to the humorless: all the above is an attempt at facetious humor.

    Cheers, Bob

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