(Article # 686 covering my battle through old age, written on my daughter, Amy\u2019s back porch, at six in the morning, waiting for her dogs to do, what I let them outside to do, and not escape and get hit by a car like the last time I was charged with their care.)<\/i><\/p>\n
I haven\u2019t seen the bottom of my foot in years. I stepped in some pinesap the other day and my foot stuck to the deck. I know. I know. What\u2019s an old coot doing going around barefoot; he should be in support hose and orthopedic shoes! But I was barefoot; I took a walk on the wild side. And, if it were the 1960\u2019s, I\u2019d be confronted with a sign at the entrance to every business establishment that said, \u201cNo Shoes, No Shirt, No service!\u201d But, I wasn\u2019t near a store; I was on my own property, trying to look at my foot to see if I could reach the sap and scrape it off.<\/p>\n
I was standing up for my first attempt, but I couldn\u2019t bend my leg and twist my ankle far enough to see anything. At least not in the four seconds before I started to lose my balance and topple over. Then, I sat down and tried again. I almost got my foot twisted into view when a leg cramp forced me to jump to my feet and kick it out before it settled in for a long siege. Bottom line. \u2013 I never saw the bottom of my foot.<\/p>\n
But, I\u2019m experienced at this old coot stuff, figuring out how to get things done with defective equipment. I didn\u2019t need to see the bottom of my foot to solve the problem. I squirted some dish detergent on a cement sidewalk next to the deck, blasted it with a burst of water from the hose to get a sudsy froth and rubbed my foot back and forth figuring the combination of the soapsuds and the rough surface of the concrete would do the job. It did! Without me having to see anything, but still, it would have been nice to see what the bottom of my foot looks like these days.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s not just a bare foot with sap; it\u2019s anything that ends up on the bottom of my foot: a sliver, a sharp pebble imbedded in it, a shoe with crud on the bottom. When I track something into the house I can\u2019t answer a simple question, or follow a simple instruction: \u201cWhat\u2019s on the bottom of your shoe?\u201d \u00a0(No answer) \u2013 \u201cCheck your shoes the next time.\u201d (Can\u2019t do it) So, I don\u2019t wear shoes in the house; I kick them off as I walk in the door. My door. Anybody\u2019s door. I don\u2019t want to admit I\u2019m incapable of looking at the bottom of my foot. And, it used to be so easy. Enjoy it while you can.\u00a0Comments? Complaints? \u00a0– mlessler7@gmail.com.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
(Article # 686 covering my battle through old age, written on my daughter, Amy\u2019s back porch, at six in the morning, waiting for her dogs…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-52291","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-editorial"],"yoast_head":"\n