Everything means nothing

Another good day today. It's so strange to feel good for so many days and weeks in a row. Of course there is always something to worry about just when you feel like things are making sense someone brings up the 2012 end of the world according to the Aztec calendar thing. And then you really start to think is this why people are assessing things and making meaningful resolutions because the end of days is just up around the bend. I don't know. John Boehner is speaker of the house in league with my pal El Diablo, the republicans have that nasty majority and seem poised to ruin everything that is good and fair including funding for NPR and food inspections. Oh spam, can I trust thou? But then that homeless guy Ted Williams with the incredible voice is discovered and some nice folks from right here in Mossville win Megamillions, and the sun came out unexpectedly today. On the way here tonight I couldn't stop looking at the clouds as I drove along, they were so beautiful. At a red light I noticed an opening to the west and the clouds were all yellow and glowing delightfully and then I noticed this Maxfield Parrish knock off was above a Shell gas station and further along the road I saw the same thing again above another Shell station and everything made sense in a demented way. We are but specks and what the hell did the Aztecs even know about time and dates and numbers, we're a blip here, sucking oil from the ground breeding incredible animals with deep voices who can tell our stories on radio and TV so that we can sit in meeting rooms and have things to discuss while the weather just does its thing around us and means nothing.

No Shoes for You

Boots by John Fluevog I will never own.

Every now and then just to punish myself I get online and look for shoes. Now that the weather is cooler and wetter I have fallen into my boot rut. I have 2 pairs of Blundstones, one round toe and one chisel toe. The chisel toes are my town boots and the round toes are the boots I wear daily around my place. When I am feeling fancy I pull on the Italian boots I bought last fall in NYC. They have been a good addition to the boot collection at Rowanville.

Here is the problem. The other day I was getting dressed and I was thinking I am tired of wearing all these boots I would like to put on shoes. I was struck by two things; a) I have no shoes, and b) I can't even picture a pair of shoes I would like to wear. The reason I find myself in this predicament is that I have turned off that place in my womanly brain wherein we think about shoes, seek shoes out, and buy said shoes which in turn enables us to wear fabulous shoes to every occasion. I can't buy shoes like a regular person. I have size 14 feet which makes sense as I am over six feet tall. I don't really want high heels, I am tall enough as it is now. I just want some cute girl shoes, Mary-Janes, ballet flats, mules, whatever. But they are not to be found in any great quantity or variety. Because of this I can't even really pin point what I would want in a shoe. It's too painful and wasteful to think about. What is the point of dreaming if your dream will never be realized. For years I have worn mens shoes and this has worked to a point. As long as I dress in a semi androgenous way I am fine but the second I want to look and feel like a girly-girl I feel the cold hard slap down of reality. I dont fit society's idea of what size a woman is supposed to be.

There are companies who make shoes for us tall gals but their proportions are often all off. A woman who is 5' 3" weighing about 130lbs and wears a size 8 shoe requires totally different engineering than me at 6'1" and 83kilos (I chose metric so you can't really tell my weight without doing some math, hah!). I am a bigger heavier person and I can't just slip into some flimsy shoe that has been lengthened based on a smaller design, it simply doesn't work. I found an okay shoe on the Nordstrom site last night, but that is it, one pair of shoes in the whole world that sort of look okay to me. Who knows if they will fit.

I spoke with a shoe designer awhile back about custom shoes which I could have made at great expense. They are works of art. This man worked with John Fluevog in the 70's and so the shoes have that vague Stevie Nicks vibe to them which is not quite my speed. They are gorgeous and well crafted. I considered (for about 5 seconds) learning to make my own shoes. Can you imagine what they might look like? Carved from wood with moss and fern accents.

What I really want to do is start my own online shoestore wherein I convince established shoe companies to make a few bigger sizes for women. We are getting bigger. When I was a teenager and needed shoes no one went over size 11. When I moved to LA in my late teens I discovered in some of the black burroughs larger sizes for that population and made trips to central LA now and then to get a few pairs but the styles were still lacking. I know I would be selling to a small customer base but man if I could make one other person feel happy about their big feet I'd feel vindicated.

My Girlhood

I digress.

I'm feeling slightly fragile at the moment and it's my own fault. Try as I may to pin it on say, my beloved husband. I have been slack about nurturing my girlhood and while I like to feel I am above all this stuff, I am not. I want to feel attractive and well put together, everyone does. We all have beautiful fashionable friends to whom we compare ourselves and it is never good. I spent the night in Seattle this week with such a friend and I came away feeling really shabby and unkempt. My girlhood is easily wounded (isn't everyones). I see now why I have been feeling so needy. I need a haircut, a pedicure and perhaps some other unspeakable but effective beauty treatments. I will feel new and shiny again, like a good luck penny. It seems so superficial but it's really true, we feel better when we honor our girlhood a little bit. When we feel better about ourselves we attract more attention which is what girlhood is all about.

Wonder Drug

I am pretty sure the vitamin D therapy is working. I took 50,000IU twice a week for 4 weeks and while I hate to go all religious on y'all I truly feel like something vaguely miraculous has occurred. My low level gnawing depression seems to be subsiding.

I joked about this last week but perhaps there is some truth to it. I am descendant from Northern people, people who have suffered since time immemorial from a lack of light. When I was a kid living in Northern B.C. winter days were pretty short, we spent a lot of time looking forward to spring break-up. A month ago I considered taking anti-depressants almost as a last resort. I am a really positive person but my ass was seriously dragging no matter what uplifting messages I gave myself.

Last summer when I needed my D July was shit. We had 21 days without sun. That's not summer that's some sort of climate change apocalypse. The depression took hold then and has remained, ebbing and flowing until a few days ago when I realized the tide was receding on the grayness I was feeling. I actually feel good despite the cool and crappy weather we have been having. So needless to say I am going to be eating vitamin D like Hot Tamales, and enjoying my fabulous life as much as is legally possible.

International Ginger Kids

What the heck? I was just in the middle of mentally preparing for a new blog entry summing up events of the past few days. I wanted to visit the International Ginger Kids site, seeking support for my soul-less condition. It's gone. Replaced instead with links to links about things that have nothing to with the biting and soul-less nature of ginger people. If anyone out there in webland can get me hooked back up with the organization, please help. Ginger people must stick together as we're a dying breed.


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