It takes me a whole lot longer to get myself ready than it did when I was young and just threw on my clothes and went to church. For one thing, Easter Sunday morning seems to warrant a pair of pantyhose. I was a little concerned when I was trying to see whether I¿had any that were more appropriate than the usual black I¿normally buy. Finally, after digging I found a new pair and began to put them on. I think I have mentioned before that it would be a great help if the National Guard could help me put a pair of pantyhose on.
First I have to put the right leg in and pull to get them over my thigh. Then I am ready to tackle the left leg. For some reason, my left leg will not cooperate with me at all while putting on pantyhose. For one thing, I can’t stand on my right leg to put on my left side of hose. I have to get on a bed and try to literally lift my foot then the left leg into the pantyhose. By this time I look like a contortionist and usually get the hose on crooked and have to retry putting them on. Once I finally get the hose up to my knees on what I call my dead leg, it is another ordeal to pull them on up.
The pair I had on Sunday seemed to hang between my crotch and knees and didn’t want to pull on up. In the meantime, Eric was ready and telling me I had better hurry up so we could leave. I finally tackled the pulling on up of the pantyhose and stretched them enough to cover my hips and stomach.
I even put a hat on after doing my hair and makeup and put the shoes on. Feeling satisfied that it was the best I could do with what I had to work with, I went off to church. Once there, I only saw one other lady in a hat and decided to slip mine off onto the seat beside me.
The preacher’s message was wonderful and I was truly enjoying myself, but after standing and sitting several times, my shoes were doing a performance all their own. In the middle of the sermon, I felt my husband’s foot scoot alongside my right foot that was closest to him. I could tell this little nudge was a little different than a footsie nudge on my foot.
As I looked down to see what he was trying to tell me, I noticed why he was nudging my foot. Those really nice shoes that I thought were better than my bargain brands were all but about to dangle from my foot. The whole shoe sole had not been sewn but was instead glued on and had come unglued and was nearly off. The tops of the very soft leather, which I¿thought was very good, were nicked as though I had walked in gravel or had taken a knife to my shoes and randomly stabbed them. I looked and both shoes looked the same. I was going to be lucky to get to the car after church with shoes on.
It actually ended up being funny, and as soon as I got home I threw the shoes away.
The rest of the day couldn’t have been nicer, and we changed clothes and went to my daughter and son-in-law’s for a delicious and beautifully prepared Easter dinner. It was a wonderful afternoon watching my grandchildren hunting for Easter eggs and being with friends and family.
I have decided before Easter rolls around next year I may check my shoes out the week before.
Just a note: I will have had my treatment on Tuesday and will be kissing my pillow again this week. Thanks to all of you for your support.
