Well, I think we’re finally back on BC time. This is one big beautiful country, but these time zones are a killer. I’m already thinking that when we fly out to Amsterdam next April for the Tulip Time AMA river cruise with the Coopers, we’ll do our visiting in Ontario – especially Ottawa – first. Just let the body clock adjust a bit so I’m not facedown in the soup for the first day or two!
 
There are a lot of things we have to adjust to in our lives. One of them is time zones, of course; another I’ve discovered is the transition from being “on” every day to just having a quiet, more normal kind of life. For example, I got rid of – passed on – a lot of clothes when we left Toronto. Suits and dresses that I’d bought or had been kindly given to me by event sponsors (like the late Jones New York) and that I knew I’d probably never need again. I mean, dresses? For my new life, it’s a big deal if I put on socks that aren’t of the athletic variety. 
 
So it was a bit of a shock when I was laying out my clothes for this recent trip, including a favourite Lida Baday black and white dress for the Canadian Real Estate Association gathering on the weekend. I have high heels that I knew I wouldn’t be able to wear for more than two minutes, but that would have looked great.
 
Hey – didn’t Oprah get someone to put her shoes on her while she sat? If I could have, I’d have done that. But hobbling to the stage to take the podium wouldn’t have been very pretty, so that was a no go. I opted for low patent pumps that I had to grip with my toes like grim death, because they weren’t laced up like my hiking sneakers or my Skechers! 
 
I got a pedicure on my spa day with Brooke and smooshed the heck out of it within five minutes, as we hobbled to a nearby Starbucks in the snow and rain. Yes, winter footwear and pedicures do not go together. But the worst of the whole footwear fiasco came on Sunday afternoon when I realized partway through my half-hour speech that a brand new pair of stockings had already given up the ghost.
 
Ah yes, stockings. Pantyhose. Whatever you want to call them. I had brought an older pair and two new ones just in case, but the older pair seemed to have shrunk since the last wearing. I swore as I contorted myself like a Cirque du Soleil wannabe while trying to get these black control tops on. It wasn’t that there was more to control; I’ve dropped about 15 pounds since I last put them on. Nope – they just didn’t want to cooperate. So on Sunday morning, I tugged on a new pair instead, slid into my pointy pumps and my dress, and grabbed my clipboard to start the day.
 
How did it end? 
 

 
A good old toe-out blow-out. Considering we leapt in and did that speech along with emcee duties, and the fact that I managed to stay upright in heels for some seven hours and everybody seemed as happy with the day as Rob and I were, I’d say that’s not too high a price to pay. Back into the time capsule for the rest of the stockings in the package until the next time. I have not missed them even one bit!
 
Have a great weekend and we’ll talk to you here on Monday.