Bruce is working on the install for the converter. Hope it won’t be a fortune—starting to think the LT is not happy unless it’s ensconced at a garage…

Merrell Pandora Breeze

These are the shoes I bought

Tried my Merrell Pandora Breeze Dark Earth women’s hiking shoes while out with the dogs. Am an inch taller with them on. . . . stiffer than the running shoes I’ve been wearing for last two years. They fit with or without my orthotics. Size 7 ½.  Didn’t need wide. Actually since I’ve lost weight my feet are narrower. The weight gain accompanied my father’s death

Inebriation does not agree with me, drugs make me ill, sedatives shoot me through the ceiling and meditation makes me nervous….ah but food, like chocolate chip cookies, and tasty grilled vege sandwiches, pasta with pesto and crumbled vege burgers, melt in your mouth rich dark chocolate with bits of cherries or crushed orange rind, or even better flakes of hot chilies. Organic blue chips with guacamole or Trader Joe’s 3-layer dip. I can eat.

Sure I pick holistic natural food without additives… additives also shoot me though the ceiling into the clouds of the lost with vicious headaches and dizziness to boot. . . that reminds me of the time my mom treated me to a all natural salad / sandwich at a place on Sunset Blvd. The food was great. My mistake was to order the lemonade without asking what was in it. Lemonade is one of those strange drinks, you can make it when you’re a kid with just some water, ice, a little sugar and freshly picked lemons and sell it to thirsty adults that pass by. When restaurants do it they jazz it up, mixing in flavors, agave syrup, strawberries, papaya, grape juice, tea…all good except when it comes to syrups and powders, that’s where the problem lies. I can be allergic. Formula ingredients don’t need to be listed. Did you know that? I worked in the food industry when I lived in the Bay Area. And, if you want to be happy, you don’t want to know what goes into batch food bases and mixes used by restaurants and fast food…it would scare you. Oh, they’ll tell you it’s “all natural,” even if it’s prepared from packages made by a lab; I mean, how natural is it to take a lemon, dry it out, then add flavorings, a ton of sweetener, mix it up with water spun through some industrially sanitized machine (that probably hasn’t been cleaned in a long time anyway) and call it natural? If it doesn’t smell up to par, no problem they’ll add flavor and scent till it’s enticing.

I should have been suspicious as the “lemonade’ in question was jiggling about in one of those juice displays looking way too yummy on that hot day.

Mom and I ate and headed off to the Grove or wherever it was. First my tongue told me that sharp raindrops were hitting it, then it went numb, then the inside of my checks became bulbous and I couldn’t feel where they ended. I was trying to talk, trying to say, hey I don’t feel so good, my head was fuzzing and words were coming out sloppy and wrong. My throat constricted making swallowing an Olympic sport. I was short of breath, dizzy, sweating and wheezing. Didn’t want to worry mom but I was wondering where the nearest hospital was located. And I was mad; I’d been fooled by pretty looking fake lemony stuff. It wore off, I survived but that’s how it is with me, chemicals that others doff and chomp without comment are horrendous in my system.

My housemate stocks the kitchen table with bags of candy—mini musketeer bars, chocolate mints, peanut butter cups, I can eat those. He announces, “There’s chicken” It’s supposed to be for the dogs but I can have some, he says, and mashed potatoes, mac ‘n cheese and pieces of cake from Ralph’s, comfort food, and boxes and boxes of cookies and chips, loaves of sourdough bread, deluxe super rich “natural premium” ice cream… I can eat all those although I’d never choose them for myself since I lean toward vegan when left to my own devices. But I eat what’s in front of me, I can eat nonstop, all night if need be. It’s stupid. But there are times when if I stop eating I’m in real trouble. And that’s how it was during my father’s death. I couldn’t do anything to help so I helped myself.

A few days ago I fell. I was cleaning the van and there was a small patch of mud on the sidewalk. My old shoes where worn smooth and I slid, like I was skating, down I went. I strained my lower back and my knee. My old shoes were hard to buy… nothing fit…  my feet have high arches and I needed wide which was almost impossible to find, nothing could soothe me.  I have some odd ailment that makes it feel as if I’m held together with wooden clothespins that easily come loose. Any of my joints can ratchet out of place. This includes all the little bones and muscles of my feet, knees, hips and back as well as my shoulders, neck and things in my jaw and around my eyes. And of course my nerves scream bloody hell when anything’s amiss. Then I lost 30 pounds during that time when my heart hurt as if a knife had been imbedded and twisted in my rib cage. I’ve gained some of it back wresting stress two-handed like holding a mad cow by her horns…

I’ll be slow with my new shoes, take time to adjust so my knees and back don’t scream at me!

Yeah!!!  I have new hikers!!!!  I’m doing okay.  Now, for that pesky van…

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