The shoes that tried to kill me

I recently got invited to a very swanky country club luncheon, which doesn't happen every day when you live in the middle on a 500-acre vineyard in Oregon with no close neighbors except wild turkeys and deer. Making friends has taken some time. So on this important occasion, I got all dressed up in my city clothes, including a darling pair of suede ankle boots I've had for several years (and haven't worn nearly enough to justify what I paid for them).

What I didn't anticipate was the effect of walking on the cobblestones in our carport in those lovely ankle boots. Did I mention the boots have an almost-stiletto heel on them -- not so much in terms of height but diameter of the heel point?

Before I could even get my car door open I found myself thrown to the ground as one of those tiny heel points was placed in between the uneven stones and turned my ankle sideways. And make no mistake about it, ankle boots are completely unforgiving in an incident like this. They do not allow your foot to come loose from the shoe as you twist, so you wrench your ankle the complete 45 degrees before you hit the ground.

I laid there for a minute, kind of stunned, and then did what any self-respecting luncheon lover would do....I got in my car and continued on to the country club. Which I realized was a mistake once my ankle started really swelling and pounding about halfway into the appetizers.

But I soldiered on, in the name of all things Country Club. Priorities! And then hit the Urgent Care Center on the way home (by that time I was in agony). They had to bring me in and out of the facility in a wheelchair, and after an exam, x-rays and ultrasound, they discovered that I'd completely torn a ligament on the top of my foot and it wasn't working anymore.

I came home and had Big Ag put the suede ankle boots into the Goodwill box.

To be honest, this is not the first time these shoes have tried to kill me. I attending a wedding a couple of years ago, with the reception held around a magnificent old oak tree at a winery. Somewhere into the reception, I tried to get back to my table from the dance floor, across a few of the massive roots that protruded around the oak, and twisted the same ankle and fell to the ground. Some old man at another table leaned over to his wife and said, "well, that one's been drinking." But I hadn't. I had tripped on an oak root, but it was the ankle boots that caused me to fall completely flat on the ground.

And so now I'm in an air cast and wrapped up like a mummy when I'm not wearing that, due for physical therapy next week. The pain is better and the bruising is subsiding. The good news is, as long as it's not hurting, I have permission to drive, walk, and do anything else I need to. And even better, it's not hurting all that much right now, so all my holiday preps are coming along just fine.

But the sad thing is that I've almost considered digging the ankle boots out of the Goodwill bag, because they are just so darn cute and look so good on. But I've realized it's a toxic relationship and that it's counterproductive to love something that's trying to kill you. And so it is in life as well.

And so I bid farewell to yet another fashion trend I've had to give up due to age. If anyone needs me, I'll be out in the vineyard, hangin' with the wild turkeys and deer. For many reasons, that is probably where I most belong. But occasionally I reserve the right to visit The Other Side -- the one with appetizers, gorgeous couture and bright conversation. You'll know you see me there when you see a slightly-out-of-place looking woman.... with an array of appetizers in her hand, wearing very sensible flats.

Learning Curve

I think one of the most rewarding and fun things about relocating to a new state is learning a whole spate of new things -- about your new climate, about yourself, and about how to live your life, day to day, in the area you call your new home.

 Growing up in California meant that I never really experienced winter. In the places I spent most of my life we had seven months of summer weather followed by five months or so of slightly cooler, more unpredictable weather. You couldn't really even call it winter compared to this. It could be 85 degrees during those months, or 65 degrees. But it mostly tended to the warmer end of the spectrum, and it was almost always sunny.

Here it is chilly, windy, gets dark early, and gets a ton of rainfall, although the rumor that it rains all the time is completely false; we get a fair mix of partly cloudy and sunny periods in any given week and, for the last week, we've had nothing but glorious -- but cold -- sunshine.

But I am learning how to take wet and/or cold weather seriously. I have two pairs of dress boots, for instance -- nice leather ones -- which had always been my go-to shoes in the rain, back in California. But when it's 38 degrees and really cold and wet -- those boots have NOT kept my feet warm enough. And so the other day I headed off to the thrift store to try and find some unworn, better boots and hit the jackpot, finding three pairs. (side note: You'd be amazed how many items of clothing I've found there that have never been worn. Most of the time the price tag is still attached, too.) Anyway, the fleece-lined waterproof boots I found make a HUGE difference in how warm my feet are, which in turn makes me feel a lot more comfortable. I also now wear fleece leggings under my jeans, plus gloves and earmuffs if I'm going to be outside more than a few minutes. But the boots and thermal underwear are worn all the time now. 

I've also had to re-learn what it means when the weathercaster calls for a "20 percent chance of rain." In California, a 20 percent chance of rain meant it was almost certainly NOT going to rain, much to everyone's disappointment. But in Oregon, a 20 percent chance of rain means you'd better pack your raincoat in the car and expect to use it. I'm glad I bought a new raincoat just before I moved. I wear it -- or at least bring it along -- all the time now.

But I think the hardest thing to get used to is the sunny, clear days. In my 57 years, those weather conditions always, and I mean always, meant you could shuck off your jacket,  because the temperature generally rose into the 60s at least. Not so outside California. Some of the coldest days I've seen here have been the sunny ones, especially when the wind is blowing. The fact is that Oregon has four seasons, and you're not going to get summer just because the sun comes out. Fine by me.

And so, as this holiday season approaches, I find myself thankful for the changes that have happened in my life, as I settle into them and the new things become more routine. A good friend of mine gave me a nugget of wisdom before I moved here. She said, "there is no such thing as cold weather...only inappropriate clothing choices." I'd say she was right. With fleece-lined, warm and dry feet, all things seem possible, no matter how hard it's raining. 

I guess when tackling a steep learning curve, it pays to start from the ground up...in this case, with your footwear.