Oh, lord have mercy on me. I truly do not know what is happening to my mind, or what I used to think was my mind.

The other day I got up late because I forgot to set my alarm clock the night before. I didn’t even turn on the light in my bedroom because both cats were sound asleep.

Anyway, I dressed, brushed my teeth, my hair, washed my face and lastly, I put on my socks and shoes.

Actually, I wasn’t too late for breakfast and my first cup of morning coffee.

The day passed without a hitch.

I went outside to walk in the sunshine, participated in exercise class, listened to a good musical performance and talked to a new resident who was having trouble adjusting her new life here.

Finally, the day was done and I was ready for it to be so. Wearily, I sat down in my antique rocking chair and began to undress. Lastly, I reached for my feet and thought to myself, “What on this earth?”

I stared at my feet.

On them was one green tennis shoe and one brown leather shoe. And the very worst thing was I had gone through an entire day around 50 residents.

I even propped my feet up in the gallery while a bunch of us were talking and my shoes were visable to everyone! Yet, did even one person, including myself, notice that my shoes did not match?

I just stared in horror as I sat in my antique rocking chair. I could not believe what I was seeing.

I sat back as my mind wandered back, back, back to about 1982. Gene and I had recently married and we were given custody of Gene’s three young children, ages four, six and eight.

One of them was having a hard time in her new school and the new and wonderfully understanding teacher called me for a conference.

Being a teacher myself, I was impressed and excited to  meet with her and that might have been the problem.  When I got to the school and found the right room, I sat outside in the hall to wait for her. It was then that my heart sank.

I did not know whether to run or what, but there on my feet were two different shoes — on one foot a sandal and on the other dress shoe — and they were nothing alike.

I mean, one was flat soled and the other had two inch heels!

It was just about that time that the teacher appeared and, stupid me, what did I do?  I forgot which child I was there for and started apologizing all over the place about my shoe mismatch.

The conference was good and she probably would not have noticed my feet, exactly like what would happen some 30 years later at Brookdale Littleton.

What on earth makes me think anyone notices my feet?  Maybe I need to look up more.

In fact, maybe we all need to to look up more!

The view from the mountains is wondrous and the temperature is much cooler lately.

I guess it’s that time of year.