Letter #30 To My Benefactor

Dear Benefactor,

Recently, a friend of mine named Laurie sent me the following email on Facebook: “Are you going hiking this coming week? I would love to go with you.”

So, what I wanted to answer was this: “Hiking? Pshaw. I was planning on napping most of the week away since I’m so tired. In between my naps, I thought I’d catch up on Last Man Standing and How I Met Your Mother on Netflix.” But, of course, what I really said was, “I would love to go hiking this week!” Note the exclamation point as I use them very sparingly in my writing.

We did end up going hiking. I had to stop at least fifteen times. I was sweating like a pig and could barely talk when Laurie would ask me a question, but I did it. Made it all the way to the lake even. I didn’t want Laurie to think I was a wuss.

It was a little sketchy trying to take a self-timed picture on the slippery rocks, but we got it done.

As I was putting my camera away, I heard a long, slow “mooooo.”

“Hey, Laurie, did you hear that cow?” I asked her. “How the heck did someone get a cow up here?” I was so confused. That cow must really be in shape to get up those several really steep sections.

Suddenly, I realized it was the purse sitting on the bench next to my camera bag. It was mooing. Apparently, the older couple that had jumped into the lake while we were adjusting the tripod were getting a phone call demonstrated by the ringtone of a… cow.

You will be happy to know that my plantars fasciitis is finally, finally improving. It better be, because I ended up spending $500 on new shoes/inserts/proper sandals this past month. Yes, you read that correctly. Five hundred dollars. Every single pair of expensive high heel shoes ended up at the thrift store and my crappy tennis shoes and flimsy slip-on shoes ended up in the trash. I kept a pair of Born wedges (because a fellow sufferer said they would be fine), and a few other pairs of thick-soled Born shoes, but I haven’t dared wear them yet.

Sometimes, I read over these letters to you and realize that I’m such a pathetic complainer. “I’m tired. My feet hurt. I had a crappy childhood. I heard a cow.” Okay, maybe the cow part isn’t complaining, but it is funny.

I will try to be happier the next time I write you.

Sincerely,

Marie

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