Confirming My Suspicions

Walking in heels for me is not a comfortable task. I've never been good at it-but I had hoped that after 37 years of life maybe it wasn't too noticeable and I wasn't too awkward. Is it asking too much that after 10 years of life in Latin America where all the women seem to don heals to go to the grocery store and school functions-that just a little of that would rub off on me? Just a teeny, itty-bitty bit?

Today, as I was walking through the hall at church, a older woman was coming towards me and after watching me for a second, cocked her head to the side and said, "Oh honey, what did you do? Are you hurting?"

Apparently, it is that noticeable and I am that awkward.

Ugggh!

Oh well-I think I'd better console myself with some new (non-high heel) shoes.

Basking the the Adoration of a Four Year Old

Today in the grocery store I ran in to my friend from Columbia. We chit-chatted in Spanish for a few minutes. When we were done Pedro asked me what language I was speaking (he has obviously abandoned his Mexican roots).

I told him I was speaking Spanish to which he replied (with awe in his little voice), "How do you know everything, Mom?"

If only it could last another 15 years...

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