My Big, Fat Fred Flintstone Feet

Gah. I just cruised ebay looking for shoes and am feeling truly depressed. Which is much better than how I feel after visiting a shoe store, which is certain I'll need to go barefoot for the rest of my life and should probably give up my shoe-requiring office job and become a professional beach volleyball player. Those of you that know me well will know just how close to the brink of insanity I must feel because:

1) I don't like to be hot
2) I don't like to run
3) I protest the ridiculous bikinis female beach volleyball players are forced to wear/pick out of their butt cracks, while their male counterparts get to play in comfy trunks.

Why the angst, you ask? I have gigunda wide feet, which have only gotten wider over the years, not due to pregnancy or other weight gain but I think just due to genetics (thanks, Dad) and fallen arches (again, thanks Dad). If I ever do become pregnant, my feet will become completely square. I should probably adopt.

Men can stuff their big boaty feet into big boaty shoes and no one cares. Men's shoes typically come in widths to accommodate the various widths of men's feet, a revolutionary concept that hasn't made it to the women's shoe aisle--except of course for those scions of style, the Easy Spirit, certain types of fugly European shoes and Birkenstocks. Oh, and New Balance, who are one of the few companies to make sneakers in widths.

My recent ebay search (key word "wide" in my size, no other search criteria selected) yielded an awful lot of shoes that had the word "orthopedic" in the description. And it is true that after just a few hours in too narrow shoes I feel ready for orthopedics, except nothing is medically wrong with me.

You know, this reminds me of an article I read in People, favored news source, about a model who became anorexic in her quest to stay at model weight, i.e., frightening Nicole Richie style stick insect. Encouraged by her family and agent, she let herself gain 70 pounds and became a successful "plus size model." Her "plus size?" 12. Ah, the freakification of perfectly normal people.

Now I know that plenty of women's shoes are uncomfortable for all women. No one felt good in those insanely pointy toe-cleavage baring shoes that just had their moment in the sun. But in order for these shoes to be uncomfortable, you have to be able to get them onto your feet, something I am not able to accomplish. I cannot jam my flippers into most women's shoes so I don't even bother. In fact, I would rather shop for bathing suits, bras and jeans in the same trip than look for shoes.

Need I say more?

Spinach, I'm Lost Without You

I am seriously bummed about the E coli outbreak that has killed one person in Wisconsin and sickened 100 others. It's one thing to be undone by, I don't know, some bad foie gras, or rancid triple cream Brie (delish) but to be felled by the Popeye wonder tonic, brimming with good health and B vitamins--it just ain't right. Spinach is what you eat to stay out of the hospital, not to hasten your arrival to the dialysis unit.

I feel personally adrift since I always have at least one bag of pre-washed spinach in my fridge, because it's ridiculously easy, equally good raw and cooked and amazingly versatile. There is no other vegetable this easy and as a result of this recall, I have literally eaten no vegetables. Well, yesterday I had a spicy ginger cookie from Peet's with big hunks of ginger, so I guess I have technically eaten a vegetable, but it was smothered in butter and molasses. That was a really good cookie. Anyway if the spinach lobby, if there is one, needs some good PR to get people back on the spinach bandwagon, I'd like to volunteer my services. I guess because I can't have it right now, I am craving it like mad--some chopped garlic sauteed in olive oil, pine nuts, raisins and a big pile o' the dark green deliciousness.

But since there are few things in this world I like less than kidney failure and diarrhea (which reminds me, the word "diarrheal" has been bandied about quite bit, as in"bloody diarrheal illness." I thought it was just "diarrhea.") I guess I will have to stick with baby carrots and baby tomatoes, the other packaged vegetables of the terminally lazy yet somewhat health conscious people like myself and wait for the day that spinach's good name is restored.

There, Back

This morning got off to a weepy start. NPR was playing 9/11 stories. A woman was describing the phonecall she received from her ex-husband and father of her kids. She didn't know what had happened until he called from the 103rd floor after the plane hit. She told of her reassurances that he would get out and his calm reply that he did not think he would. She explained her confusion whether or not to tell him that his daughter, who he believed to be at school, was actually at home that morning. She didn't know what she would tell her daughter if she were to hand her the phone. As her narrative progressed to the desparate conclusion that he was going to die, she became more tearful. Listening to her convey the horror and overwhelm of being a witness to someone waiting to die helped me understand why people jumped that day.

Right after that I switched to a morning show for some levity. One of the DJs was talking about her Nana and the obligation to call her and what a pain she could be. The other DJs immediately chimed in that once she didn't have her Nana, she would do anything to be able to hear her voice again. Of course that started me thinking about Nanny. I tried to conjure her voice in my head. How did she answer the phone again? What would she say? How would she say it? I wanted to call her and hear her say, "The car? How can you be calling me from the car? What is this 'cell phone' you're talking about?" in a deeply suspicious way. I missed her horribly in that moment and started crying again.

All this before even making it onto the bridge. But luckily this did not set the tone for the day, which was fine and totally unremarkable.

The drive back was a lot more fun. Guns N Roses, minus everyone but Axl I think, is in town and they are getting more airplay because of it. Listening I was reminded of how disconcerting it was to realize that I really liked a band that was so gross. By gross I mean sexist, homophobic and generally infantile. From "It's So Easy:"

Ya get nothin' for nothin'
If that's what ya do
Turn around bitch I got a use for you
Besides you ain't got nothin' better to do
And I'm bored

Gross, right? But Appetite for Destruction is an amazing record. Why? Because it rocks.

So there you have it. One day and two commutes, couldn't be more different. Sometimes it's just like that.

Getting Away From it All, All of Us

This past weekend Honey and I escaped to Lake Tahoe, which is northeast of here in some mountains, I believe the Sierras but don't quote me on this. En route, in addition to various In n Out Burgers, is of course the (in)famous Donner Pass where the aforenamed party heading West got caught in a snowstorm and resorted to cannibalism--but after death I think, which is supposed to make us all feel better. Anyway, we were both looking forward to lots of lounging lakeside, swimming, consumption of barbequed items, etc. All of which we did, along with five million other people, their motorboats, JetSkis, poorly behaved children, and barking dogs.

But you know what? If you have a boat, or a pair of Jet Skis then you probably have a ginormous car to tow it. You probably have a garage to park your ginormous car because you sure as hell could not park that Suburban, Escalade, Expedition etc on the street. And chances are good that if you have a garage to keep your car and your Jet Skis and your boat, then you probably have a house. And you probably have a yard. Which means you have your own private green space--maybe even with your own pool. So do me a favor and stay home once in a while on holiday weekends so us city dwellers can enjoy some peace and quiet in Lake Tahoe fer godssake!

Whew. I feel better. Anyway, Honey and I were determined to find a more isolated spot with a swimmable body of water, which we did find. A two mile hike uphill near an area ski resort led to five lakes nestled in a bowl of tress, surrounded by granite boulders. It was incredibly peaceful and gorgeous and just the experience I was hoping for. There were people, but just a few. The kind of folks that are willing to hike two miles uphill on a hot day with toddlers strapped to their backs are generally not ruckus causing folks--and their dogs are better behaved.