Winter Relief

Rather like the foot part of a cowboy boot. Narrowed, turned up toe. Bas relief floral design on the outside flashing beauty for all to see. Shiny black leather booties. Close fitting at the ankle. Back zipper necessary to get in. To be worn with jeans, slacks, skirts, dresses. I can even see them with black hose and a shimmering dress on a flapper Fox Trotting across a floor. “Ain’t We Got Fun.” I know. Wrong footwear but they’d look smashing.

I’ve wanted these booties for a long time. Over my shoe budget. Most expensive footwear ever bought. Two thousand fifteen arrived and I indulged. Of course they can’t be worn now, in the dead of winter. Not because of snow; the salt would destroy them in one season. So why did I buy them now? I don’t know. Perhaps they’re incentive for the tiring business of staying more or less alert for three months doing the work necessary for my forthcoming novel “In the Land of Two-Legged Women.” It’s winter. We should all be curled up under fluffy blankets blissfully dreaming of delicious adventures through the dreariness of the season of ennui. I can’t do that, so I look at my beautiful, delectable booties sitting on a chest in my office, waiting to be worn with black jeans—and flapper-like dresses.

I hope they help me through this winter. But, if they don’t I’ll have them when spring reminds us life is worth living. They’re ready to dance and strut the stuff. Ready to say, “Hey, look what Huey has. Ain’t they grand?”

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Not Right is an Adventure

Off. Life was off. The world was off and there was no discernible reason. I’d recently learned my novel would be published—by a real publisher. I should have been in ecstasy. I had gotten new eyes, in a manner of speaking. I’d had two cataract surgeries, followed by laser work to correct the first surgery that worsened my vision. I had almost twenty-twenty vision in both eyes, probably for the first time in my life. Yet things weren’t right. I wanted to lie down, curl up and do nothing.

For some reason I put on a pair of glasses with no lenses. Wonder of wonders, my god, the world was right again, no longer off. The next day I drove to the doctor for a post-laser checkup without my glasses and even though I could see just fine, driving made me edgy. On the way home I wore my lensless glasses and driving was as it should be.

How dependent we get on what is in our lives. I’d worn glasses since I was nine. They were a part of my face as much as my nose, mouth and eyes. Without them I was floating in space too big. It was as if I had no boundaries and if there are no boundaries how can you know what’s appropriate, useful, fun, or maybe painful.

I’m writing this without glasses. Even though I’ll need reading lenses, I can see what’s on my Mac just fine, but I am feeling adrift. I suspect I will eventually adjust. I’ll get bifocals because I can’t be bothered with putting on and taking off reading glasses, and I can’t wear them around my neck on one of those quasi-necklace things because they would fight with whatever real necklace I had on. I’m not going to give up my necklaces. Bifocals it will be.

In a sense I’m having an adventure, granted a very small one, but this is definitely new. Interesting and somewhat amusing, even if annoying. We can’t live effectively without some boundaries but I suspect hanging onto them can be as bad as substances that harm and can eventually kill. I guess I should start a list of boundaries I’ve erected or let be erected around me and then decide if some should be removed. It might be interesting to try to identify which ones I’ve gotten rid of in the past and what that meant to me.

And I might need to set some new ones. Getting new eyes has changed more than optics.