A Walk in the Rain and a Whiplash!

It started raining in Northern California.

Yay!

And like the US postal people, I will not let snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night, interfere with my morning constitutional through the neighborhood.

It’s good for my heart, my Buddha belly, and it “clears the ole cob-webs” out of that petrified gray matter of mine.

My infamous blue rubber rain suit and barn boots (of last season), have been temporarily placed on moth balls, and as much as I swore I’d never do this – my belly, booty, and bazoombas are now sporting Spandex these days.

Yes, I know, People.

I swore that I’d never wear a pair of Spandex to emphasize my jiggly gluts, knicker bonkers and tumultuous tuckus, but I found an XL outfit (in black, of course), that’s actually quite comfortable, and a tad nicer than that ole blue, rubber rain suit.

What can I say?

I also vowed that I would never be caught dead in a pair of Orthotics or rubber Crocs; but alas, old age and prudence has forced me to rethink my pigheaded stance of my youthful naivety.

Oh well.

Got a funny idea, I won’t be the first one to meet my Fairy Godfather in assorted-colored rubber slippers or old lady shoes with special insoles.

Nor will I be the last.

I’m not exactly what you’d call a fashionista (lest my blue rubber rain suit made you believe otherwise), but I have always had a keen sense of matching my sneakers and sport socks to whatever I’m sportin’; and I decided that my white, orthotic Dr. Scholl’s weren’t exactly “the look” that I wanted to project to my adoring public.

So, with that in mind, I purchased a new black pair of Dr. Scholl’s, and a matching, DrizzleStix Flex 54” Golf Umbrella, with spring action canopy, for when the rainy season began.

“I’d be damned if I’m looking goofy on my walks, this rainy season.”

“No siree, Bob!”

Well, the rainy season began last week.

(Or at least we hope it did!)

And I got a chance to fashion this new outfit of mine, to all the neighbors (umbrella and all) – on my inaugural rain walk of the season.

Yep.

Everything was going swimmingly, don’t ya know?

The Mario Andretti’s and Janet Guthrie’s of the neighborhood were mindful not to shower me with the mucky rain water from the newly formed puddles, that had pooled on the side of the streets, as they grinded down into 2nd gear to pass me.

And a few of the drivers were actually hesitating at the stop signs that morning.

Yep.

Miss Buddha Belly and I were actually working up a good sweat and gaily humming along, and I was thinking that maybe with all the rain we were getting, that this idea of using reclaimed sewage water (that certain county officials were suggesting for our drinking water), could be shelved for future draught solutions, and we could move past this distasteful idea.

Uh-Hun.

I’m happily humming and singing off key and just having a grand ole morning, walking and reveling in Ca’s first, sweet, purifying, renewing rain of the season.

Yep.

Suddenly, one of the prickly spinose teeth, on the neighbor’s tall rose bushes, precariously reaches out, bites into the canopy of said nifty, new umbrella; stops me dead in my tracks, and catapults my head backwards; like the rubber band of some anthropomorphic bean shooter.

Still humming and naively thinking that this was no big deal, I quickly raised the hood of my spiffy, new Spandex jacket over my head, for protection from the now steady rainfall; and then attempted to carefully assess the situation, so I could return to my morning walk.

Yeah.

When is anything ever simple for me?

I patiently tried to unhook the umbrella from this bush’s death-grip, and began getting wetter and wetter with each passing minute; when I aptly concluded, that this plan of action was going nowhere fast.

If I didn’t want to be soaked to the bones very shortly, I’d better head-back home, put on some dry clothes, get a pair of pruning scissors; drive back to the neighbors and try to salvage what was left of my nifty, new umbrella.

Uh-Hun.

Well, the winds picked up while I was trying to implement plan # 2.

Let’s just say, I need a new umbrella, and, like Dopey’s best friend of Disney’s “The Seven Dwarfs”, find myself sneezing at the most inopportune times.

Have a grand day, today, People, and remember:

Some days you just need to let it rain and get a little wet…

It’s good for the soul.

I’ll catch you next adventure, looking at life from my shoes!

 

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Lucie and the Bermuda Triangle of Zits!

Exercising, as many of you know, is not high on my list of fun activities to do during the week.

 

So, when medical professionals politely (but strongly) suggested to me and my Buddha Belly that we needed to start a daily exercise routine of some kind, I acquiesced and decided that walking would be a better alternative to, say, belly dancing for Seniors with Miss Bedelia on Wednesdays, or wheelchair racing for crusty curmudgeons with Mr. Karl on Thursdays.

 

After all, I still have one working knee left and one foot that, for all practical purposes, is able to fit in my shoe with only one orthotic and a little coaxing from my trusty Mickey Mouse shoehorn.

 

And walking, unlike other activities, is free, can be done most anywhere (including a mall), requires no special equipment, requires neither the companionship of man nor beast, and is truly good “therapy” for both mind and body.

 

So why do I (Miss Buddha Belly herself) hate it so much?

 

I don’t seem to mind snarfing down those extra helpings of rigatoni and garlic bread, and I haven’t seen anyone twisting my arm lately to eat the See’s candy that I somehow need after inhaling said plate of pasta; so what, pray tell, bothers me so much about taking my daily, neighborhood walk today?

 

It wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that I’ve got the Bermuda Triangle on my face in the form of two chin zits and a cold sore on my upper lip the size of all Texas, now would it?

 

Or could it possibly be that when I’m not in a blue rubber rain suit and barn boots, I’m wearing a pair of ratty sweatpants decorated with paint stains and an old college sweatshirt that is badly in need of a recycle bin? Most everyone else I run into while walking in the morning look like they’re straight outta the “Stepford Wives” and quite stylin’ in their Spandex and Nike running shoes.

 

(And yes, People, I’ve tried to look stylish myself, don’t ’cha know, but Nike doesn’t make a running shoe that accommodates old lady orthotics. And Spandex IS NOT meant for those of us sportin’ Buddha Bellies or post-menopausal buttocks. I’m not saying there aren’t those among us who haven’t shared that little look with others, just  saying, “I’m not one of those women who wants my belly, booty and bazoomas bouncing around in Spandex for every Tom, Dick and Harry to see, ya know?”)

 

I might have the occasional dental drool crusted on the front of my shirt or a lotion goober or two glued on my pant leg, and maybe even a little nose snot escaped on my lip every once in a blue moon, but damn, I draw the line when it comes to flappin’ bellies and bubble butts in under-sized Spandex!

 

A girl’s gotta have a modicum of modesty and humility, ya know?

 

I may be old and a tad fluffy in the midriff area, but far be it for anyone to tell me that my Spandex-enclosed belly or buttocks is offending anyone!

 

(It’s not a site my neighbors are going to be seeing anytime too soon. I’ve already got a reputation for being a bit of a “character.” I sure as heck don’t need “Spandex Buddha – Momma” to be added to my list of otherwise colorful descriptions, thank you very much!)

 

Geesch.

 

Anyhow, I’m really disgusted with the fact that I’ve got this ugly, monstrous cold sore in the middle of my upper lip, and I’m asking God how the hell I (a verifiable Ross Dept. store Senior citizen) got not one, but TWO ample-sized zits on my chin, when I look up to see one of my “Stepford Wife” neighbors carrying one of those white plastic, 10-gallon kitchen bags (the kind many of us use for our kitchen trash bin) to use for her dainty, little 3 lb. Yorky.

 

And it hits me!

 

I’m not the only one outta my bubble this morning who’s lookin’ a tad silly.

 

At least I’m not walking around the neighborhood with a big ass 10-gallon plastic bag flapping in the breeze to pick up little “Fifi’s” poo!

 

Thank you, Lord! I needed that moment of silliness.

 

Think I’ll stick with my Bermuda Triangle of zits and cold sores today, thank you very much.

 

Go out and have a grand day today, People! And remember: Life in our shoes may not always be easy, but if we take the time to look (really hard!), it’s usually silly…Catch ya next week for another adventure looking at life in my shoes.