Saturday, February 21, 2009

High heels take away a woman's power!

On a lark, yesterday I wore high heels to work. These high heels:

I had been talking to a girl who works there about boots she's going to buy, and I mentioned I had bought these heels over a year ago but never wore them. Not even once.

So, thinking about the shoes got me thinking about the shoes. And, as a last minute decision on my way out the door Friday morning, I switched my socks to nylons and pulled out these puppies.

Never again.

Don't even get me started on trying to scrape the ice off my vehicle with these frivoloties on my feet. I nearly slipped under the vehicle a couple of dozen of times (my frantic hand prints remain on the side of KITT from the times I flailed out for some sort of lifeline).

I had to take the heels off to drive, otherwise my foot couldn't flex down far enough to urge my car faster than the idle propelled it.

Then there was the parking lot ice rink I had to traverse in order to reach the two-story metal grate stairs to the front entrance of the office (perfect heel tip sized grates, btw).

Once in the office, if I didn't want to sound like a jackhammer clipping along, I had to shuffle along on the balls of my feet over the tiled floor all day. Finally I decided to just take the heels off and scurry in my stocking feet if I had to go further than the length of my desk.

The final insult was after I came back from lunch and saw the man who operates our enormous testing van. I delicately tick-tick-ticked along the icy parking lot, calling out to ask if I could take a look inside the van. With a seriously concerned look on his face, he watched me take my embarrassingly small trotting steps closer and closer to him. This is a man I have worked with for weeks -- who never once before had ever looked at me like he best just throw me over his shoulder and walk me someplace himself for my own good.

High heels take away a woman's power. They reduce us to feeble baby-stepping charity cases. No more, I say. Perhaps for a dinner date. Tink-tink-tink to the car. Take them off to drive. Tink-tink-tink to the restaurant. Sit, eat, enjoy some conversation. Tink-tink-tink back to the car. Take them off to drive. Tink-tink-tink back to the apartment. But that's about all they're good for.

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Monday, February 2, 2009

Look what I can do...

... I've been working on a scarf for months. And by working, I mean every now and then for the past few months I've picked up my knitting and done a row or two, then put it down again.

But my greatest achievement is this cute ball of yarn, which is attached to my scarf.

When I think of knitting, I've always thought of a ball of yarn with two needles sticking out of it.

Now, a less creative person would be bothered by the fact that it started out kind of narrow, got wider, and then narrowed again. Since I am a realist, I anticipate it will continue this trend until I am done transforming all my yarn into a scarf formation. And I do expect to just knit until all the yarn ball it gone.

And all this yarn blob is gone too:

I anticipate having a new long, wavy, purple and blue scarf to give myself on my fiftieth birthday.

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Channel Surfing:

- Why would anyone become an ATB Financial customer, when their commercials reveal that they think their customers are morons who can’t recognize a human voice?

- What were the Montreal Canadiens wearing today against Boston? They looked like elves at the North Pole who were incarcerated in a 1930s prison movie.

- My award for cool head of the day goes to the chef on Food Challenge’s Italian Family Feast who had nothing to present to the judges because his father – who, thanks to the twist in the episode, was his kitchen help for the challenge – cut up the main dish and fed it to the audience when the chef was busy working on something else. The chef turned back around and asked his dad where the meatballs were, and his dad pointed out to the cud-chewing crowd. To his credit, the chef just put his head in his hands, probably trying to figure out what he ever did to his father to make daddy dearest so intent on publicly screwing him like this.