Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Lawrence of Arabia, I'm not

Well, last night wasn't nearly as bad as I though it was going to be.

Because of rainy weather, the military salute was moved to the Trinity Valley Exposition, which is a covered rodeo arena with a packed dirt floor surrounded by concrete risers.

The Liberty city manager was injured earlier in the day, so I was volunteered to help hand out certificates during the ceremony. This worked out perfectly since I would be participating and not just wallowing; activity is a good thing. I went over straight from work in my strappy black heeled sandals, ready to go.

Did I mention the packed dirt floor?

My first trip across wasn't so bad. I eyed the distance between the table where I was supposed to be and the concrete stands and just did it. Weight forward, I only sunk a little and made it across.

As soon as I got there I met everyone and was plunged into folding folders and affixing certificates. Good. I like busy work.

But then we needed the county judge to sign something, could I go get him? He was only just over there. Across the sea of packed dirt.


Leaning forward on my tippy toes in my cute little strappy heeled sandals, I started the trudge across the sinking sand arena to get the judge.

Could he turn around so I could get his attention without walking all the way over there? No. Could anyone around him tell him I was trying to get his attention so I didn't have to walk all the way over there? No.

I finally made it to him, smiled nicely and escorted him back to the table as gracefully as possible without sinking into the muck up to my knees.

There, I was done. The judge walked away and the lady who was working with me casually said, "Oh here's another one he needs to sign." And she looked at me.


I looked from her to the judge, who by now had returned to the furthest point he could be from us, with his back firmly in our direction. I looked at my feet in their cute little strappy black damned heeled sandals and I looked at that sinky sand floor between us.

The band started to play the music for the ceremony. The box of certificates was sitting in front of me and I was horrified to think one of those boys would get a certificate not signed.

So, I smiled and said, "I'll go get him."

I walked a million miles across that sinking quicksand on tiptoes with my calves screaming and my heart pounding. The judge came back with me and signed all the certificates in time - there were more than a few that still needed signing- and all of those boys (and girls) were honored.

It was a good night after all.


Blogger psycho_aide said...

which is why i do not where heels!!

11:28 PM  
Blogger Cat said...

I agree! Heels are BAD!! I think men invented them! along with pantyhose! :-)

11:30 AM  

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