I know that as an adult I am not a very enthusiastic wearer of shoes. Living in the country as we do and on the sort of land that we do have here in the Ozarks, means that going outside barefoot is not a very much fun unless one treads very, very carefully; I mean, mostly rocks here with a little dirt mixed in, dochna’ know.
I definitely prefer going barefoot in the house during the summer and in the winter getting by with thick socks or very soft-soled slippers. In any event, when ever I sit down in front of the computer my shoes end up on the floor under the desk. At the moment I have 3 pairs of shoes and slippers under the desk and another pair of shoes off to the side.
I suspect I was also not a very enthusiastic wearer of shoes when I was a little girl. I think my parents sang the first few lines of the popular tune of the time “Put your shoes on Lucy, don’t you know you’re in the city” to me frequently as away to jolly me into putting my shoes on.
At any rate, that tune has plays in my mind frequently in recent months, the main irony being that it is in the city, where nature has been bullied into submission by concrete and asphalt and lawns are carefully manicured and thick with various types of grass, that it actually is possible to run around quite freely outdoors without worrying about stepping on a rock.
However, sometime during 2010, and as vivid as some memories of 2010 are, I only have a vague recollection about other things, and thus I have no idea when this happened— possibly as late as in November when Nathaniel and I did a lot of schlepping through airports and then additional walking on top of that (mostly with shoes on, I might add)—plantar fasciitis developed in my right foot. What? Huh? What this means is that the bottom of the heel hurts — really hurts — and you must wear shoes all the time. Dr Zorba, who I listen to on public radio on Sunday afternoons, says people with plantar fasciitis should even wear rubber flip-flops in the shower. I did not have it bad enough that I required flip-flops for the shower, but I did find it necessary to wear my slippers to negotiate even the 10 steps from the bed to the bathroom in the middle of the night.
And then all of a sudden the plantar fasciitis went away. And I have no idea when it stopped hurting like crazy if I did not have something on my feet.
I only know I am very thankful that now that we are temporarily having summer in April that I can charge around the house barefoot without discomfort.
It is just very nice not to deal with that any more. Weaver of Grass wrote in one of her posts about getting old is not for "wimps.” How right she is. And her advice, mostly to "get on with it" and stop complaining is good as well, I think. All sorts of parts of my body seem to be falling apart – here a twinge, there a twinge, everywhere a twinge – but at least the heel of my right foot is one less thing I have to worry about. Now, if I can just figure out what is going on with my left knee….