I can not take credit for this. I recently discovered that my age is affecting some of my decisions. I had to buy a new pair of boots. Last year’s pair of boots had heels that were worn, not badly, just bad enough that my knees and hips were being affected. Buying shoes regularly is bad enough. Buying boots is even more of a challenge. I’m really not concerned about the fashion. First, they have to fit over my SLENDER? calves. Next they have to be warm. Since many of my hours spent outside are spent walking a dog — I NEED my feet to be not only dry but warm. Next they have to be reasonably priced. I was surprised when the first thing I did was to turn the boots over and look at the tread.
The first pair that I looked at had a sole that was rather smooth. The next pair was better — the sole wasn’t smooth, the tread was evenly spaced, and zippers on the sides would make putting them on easier. The last pair that I looked at had a much better sole, tread looked like it would be safer on slick and icy surfaces. They had laces instead of a zipper — roomier, I would be able to wear heavier socks plus they were designed for colder temperatures. Only then did I try the last two pairs of boots on. I bought the pair with laces and better tread. For a change, price was not my guiding issue.
I was surprised that the tread on the sole was my guide, not a fashion statement, or the price — my age is showing. I told a friend about my experience this morning. She said it wasn’t my age that is showing, I’m using my wisdom.
I like the sound of that.
Recently I was invited to a Christmas breakfast. I don’t remember when we first started this gathering. It was quite a few years ago. The ladies were still living in their own homes, now they live at Resurrection Senior apartments. The oldest of our group will soon be 95 at Christmas time. The hostess is a young 92. I’m probably the youngest. When she phoned with the invitation I was most grateful that I had the day available. In fact I arrived a bit early, just in case she needed some help. For the most part, the table was set, the casserole was in the oven and the tomatoes were cut. She was making coffee. And that is when I was able to lend a hand. Her coffee pot had issues — the filter blocked — coffee and grounds everywhere but in the coffee pot. Exactly how it happened we couldn’t tell, but it was a mess — all over the machine, and her counter. I was able to clean up the machine, the counter and the pot. I couldn’t figure out how to put the machine back together but soon coffee was perking again. Three walkers lined up in her bedroom, one an expensive Rollator — I was one of the most able bodied in attendance and I was happy to lend a hand.
Other gatherings might have surfaced in my memory, maybe that is why I was early. I might have remembered that my assistance was helpful before. I don’t know but I was happy that I was able to attend, grateful we could all get together again. And maybe that experience, and seeing their walkers helped guide me to pick out the safest pair of boots for this winter.