September 28, 2013: Walking Barefoot

Note Ben's image in the window

I know that one shouldn't brag, but I just can't resist. I get ready really fast. I would approximate that I get ready faster than 95% of the female population. Prior to the picture taken above, I got ready in seven minutes (the boys timed me).

Eight minutes before walking out the door, Cookie and I were lounging. My clothes were casual and hair pulled back. As I realized that Angel Flight start time was creeping up, I made an executive decision. Ben would drop me off and I would walk the mile route home.

Ben agreed, but gave me a short window of time as he and pals had their own important plans. "No worries," I told them. "I get ready really fast." Dress and jewelry decision? No problem. Lots to choose from. Shoes? Found a really cool pair with sparkles in my closet (forgot I had). Hair? Quick choice of an iron and throw in some curls. Lipstick? Nah. Maybe when I'm 47. Add mascara with a little eye liner and shadow. Viola!

Over the years I have run from Prairie Life with friends and then showered there before work. Although I was never applauded for my speed on the road, I was for my speed in the locker room. I would get out the same time as the guys and would gloat with every compliment of "Gee, you can get ready fast." "I didn't know that was possible with the female species. Can you train my wife?"

After my seven minute prep time, a picture was snapped and I was escorted by three of Skutt's finest to the Skutt Angel Flight fundraiser. With a quick drop off, I was on my own; still relishing my seven minute record speed. Knowing pride and ego bring people to their knees, I am surprised I didn't fall over in my higher-than-normal heels.

The event was great fun with great people. I was so glad I went. And then it was time to go home. A beautiful fall night with shining stars awaited me.

One of the boys who dropped me off with Ben was working valet. He knew of my plan to walk home and questioned whether this was still my preference. After my affirmation, he snapped a picture. This time with the shoes were off and the journey home began.

I later found out from Ben that the valet boys sent texts letting him know of my departure. It's funny how the tables have turned. As a parent I had a similar communication with the piano teacher when Little Ben insisted on walking home by himself. This time Ben awaited word on my safe arrival home.

With sparkly shoes in hand, I walked home for that mile trek through my neighborhood. And it was spectacular. My dad won't like to hear this. To his chagrin, I liked to walk barefoot as a child. He would warn me of contracting lockjaw by stepping on an unintended object. But I took my chances.

Now it's the rave for people to run barefoot and I have yet to hear of a lockjaw episode. My walk on the wild side continues. Personally, I couldn't think of a better way to take in the beauty of the night and reflect on the great conversations had. Sometimes the best life therapy comes in small doses and with small steps.