Shopping... ugh...

The other day while I was waiting in the pain clinic I saw an advertisement on TV for some shoes.  I need some new shoes.  When I came home from the US I was RUTHLESS, I tell you, I was completely devoid of all RUTH!  Any shoes that were uncomfortable, worn, of just plain ugly were unceremoniously consigned to the Goodwill.  Any jeans or shorts that were too tight, same destiny.  (I still ended up with so much excess baggage to cost me nearly $1000 in baggage fees AND my carry-on bag was over 50 lbs and I couldn't lift it into the over-head locker without some help!)

Unfortunately among the rejects were some very nice semi dressy sandals that had a little heel (maybe an inch and a half), I used to wear them but the leather was a bit hard over my toes and they cut into my feet if I was in them for to long.  I also ditched my crocs (making The Boy happy because he thinks they are the ugliest shoes in the world) and my 'go to' comfy heels.  So anyway, the shoes advertised were very reasonably priced and I thought I might find something suitable there.  There was only one problem...  None of their stores are anywhere near where I live.

So today, after a pitiful night's (I say euphemistically) sleep I decided to head out to the factory outlet stores in the western burbs of Sydney.  In spite of the fact that I arrived only fifteen minutes after the centre opened there  was no handy parking, and there were definitely no disabled parking slots.  I'm not sure why but it seems here in Australia there are more "people with babies in prams" parking spots than disabled ones... I'm not sure why, but if I ever figure it out you will definitely hear from me.  I eventually found a parking spot and made my way into the stores.  The shoe outlet definitely did have lots of potentially suitable shoes but they only had a couple of chairs to sit in while trying on the shoes and working one-handed (as my other hand was busy with my portable banister) I juggled several pairs to try on.  I chose a nice pair of sandals with about a two inch heel and for good measure (and to annoy The Boy) I popped for the $5 for a pair of navy blue imitation Crocs too.  There is a reason I, a butchish lesbian, wear heels...  I know it seems a little incongruous but I have bilateral partial ruptures of my Achilles tendons and flat shoes cause all kinds of pain in that area (unfortunately heels cause all kinds of pain in other areas far to often).  A glance towards the two open registers showed lines of at least ten people each, so seeing as I was already there I decided to check out the jeans.  The good news is that I have lost about three inches around my waist!  (Never fear there is still plenty of me to go around, or should I say to be gone around?)  Anyway I did choose a pair of French blue jeans that I think look a little more flattering than the super baggy over-sized jeans I have been wearing lately.

Queues are NOT my friends.  Not only am I forced to be on my feet for much longer than is actually comfortable but I also have some issues about having strangers in my personal space and so I get a little anxious when I am in any kind of a "crush" of people.  I generally have to practice some self meditation to endure a queue, I picture golden sands, soft breezes, palm trees etc... I waited, for the most part with good grace, I did get a woman behind to hold my place for a moment while I grabbed a shirt for The Boy's Christmas present.  I finally paid and escaped and had a collapse for a few minutes on one of the couches in the middle of the passageway.  I did make one other purchase of a Christmas present from a cooking shop but by the time I was out of there I was seriously dragging my arse (which is ironically the antithesis of "hauling ass").  I was moving very slowly.  Normally my left side is much more painful than my right, for some reason, so I have become accustomed to holding my cane in my right hand but typically today, when I am also carrying shopping bags, my right knee decided to demand my attention.  It was very odd trying to coordinate with my cane in my left hand... it felt wrong.

When I got back to the car I was so relieved to flop into the seat that I just sat there for a while before pulling out, to the irritation of the people waiting for my spot.  I'm very happy to be home and horizontal again.  What an ordeal!

On a lighter note, today it is only six days until TLOML arrives for her first visit.  Things have been progressing very nicely on that front.  I still feel a little strange using her name and I'm not sure how comfortable I will be whispering "Displaced" to her in a tender moment, the idea of beginning a relationship with someone who has my name is kind of odd.  My friend The Mathematician calculated the odds of two people with our specific name becoming a couple and it came out to around one in a billion (based on name stats and population of the US, and a presumption of % of lesbians, and the eye of a frog and the hair of a stegosaurus, add water and stir).  It is entirely possible that we may actually be the ONLY couple in the world who share our particular name, which is really pretty cool I think!

It's no secret I am besotted!  I must say I have been getting a little anxious about our first meeting, the idea of my mental image of her combining with my memories of her from school and amalgamating into the reality of her live and in person sitting in my passenger seat is VERY exciting and a little frightening too!  Still, this experience is the best thing that has swum into my ken (to borrow from Keats) in many long and miserable years and win, lose, or draw I am grateful for every moment.

Rest assured - I will keep you posted!