I create a shadow.
I cast a shadow.
Some days the same shadow that protects another from the harsh rays of the sun can also be a nuisance; it blocks another from the glorious warmth of the rays.
Yet at some point, when I have faded into a mere whisper,
I pray that the shadow has left a hint of legacy.

If the shoe fits...

...buy it.

One not-so-great thing about carrying a long tall shadow is that you have to have some pretty good sized feet to support your structure. While in third grade I sported a women's size 8 shoe. Make that a women's size 8 ORTHOPEDIC shoe (but that could be an entirely different entry...). That quickly grew to a size 10. And then larger. Which isn't a huge deal these days, but it was in the days when nobody actually made a size 11. I've worn men's shoes. I've had ugly shoes.

But one thing I have always known is that when you find a pair of shoes that fits, you buy it. You often buy it in many colors. You don't really like the shoe? That doesn't matter so much. Good fit is waaaaaaay more important. And an outfit can be built around a shoe.

I was travelling last week and stumbled upon a shop called, go figure, "If The Shoe Fits". I quickly looked through the stacks and while beginning to roll my eyes as if to say "Do you actually carry anything over a size 8?" I spotted a box. It was waaaaaay up high. Even I had to stand on something to get it down.

In side was a lovely pair of Joan & David boots. Brown, manageable heel, stylish toe without being too pointy. Slipped those puppies on to my own dogs, and pranced around. The shoe fit.

And so did the price tag. Seems nobody ever comes in for such a strange size. I slapped a $50 bill in the sales girl's hand (tax free weekend, to boot!).

Mixed blessings, I tell you! Today, I love my feet!

This part never gets old...

I was out having a drink with a friend yesterday evening. She was kind of in "crisis mode", about to leave to participate in a wedding. It's the first wedding she's been in since her divorce, she's not feeling great about herself, she's gained a couple of pounds, and her dress...well, in her words, is "tragic".

Anyhow, we were sitting in one of those dark-wood-with-lovely-leather-seating-type places. Lovely women and men were the norm. A nice gentleman walked up and said he just had to stop; we both have the nicest legs. Yes, we do. Yes, they were sticking out of short-ish skirts. And yes, the legs do appear to go on and on forever when you're both six feet tall and sitting in a high chair. He complimented us and moved on.
He later sent his friend by...just to look...under the guise of a bathroom run. I don't think his friend thought we were quite as stunning, but he went along with the compliment.

And then they were gone. No offer for drinks. No "hit" from two guys when we really weren't in the mood. No lurking and leering. Just a really nice compliment.

There have been times in my life when I've envied the 5' tall girl who can tuck herself under someone's wing. The perky little thing, you know.

Today is not one of them. Today, my legs go from my waist all the way down to the floor. And today, the right gentleman was sent to appreciate that.

I do believe there a million more just like him!

Managing the Hurdles in Life

I was working out with my "speed coach" today. He likes to warm up using hurdles. Real sprinter type hurdles. I do a series of stepping and walking and stepping and side stepping and backward stepping and re-stepping...until my hips are warmed up. Or in my case, my hips are sore.

Did you think this was going to be something philosophical about minor set-backs in life or obstacles that you can surely overcome? Not really. It truly is about stepping over hurdles. Like I'm some track star wanna-be.

Anyway, my big feet seem to get in the way. I've been known to kick over a hurdle, fall over a hurdle, get stuck between the hurdles. The funny part is, my legs are so long that none of this should be an issue. The hurdles are set on the lowest height, yet I still "struggle". I watch others sloppily drag through the routine; I try to get each step perfect.

There's no such thing as perfect on this drill. Just get over the hurdles, he says. Is my foot in the right place, are my arms assisting me...blah, blah, blah. The more I think, the more awkward they become.

Just go over the hurdles. Focus on the end of the row. Breathe. Move. Get there. Think about it later. My big feet out of control legs get me there, just as asked. Do I feel pretty? Not always, but here's news...

Nobody does. They envy my long limbs. They like that I always work so hard. They are just happy to be at the end. They rejoice, high five, swagger. I worry about doing it better. Who is happier? I need a little of what they've got.

Today, when faced with an obstacle, decide whether it's in a minor inconvenience that can step over or if it's a road block that will competely paralyze the journey.

Happy stepping, my leggy friends!