High Heels on Old Ladies

I have been out of it for a couple of years due to COPD and a few other annoying life beaters, but today, as I was ambling down my walk-way dragging my oxygen tank behind me, I remembered that I was wearing my favorite high heeled shoes. It may seem a little incongruous to try and picture a sixty-three year old woman, rather on her last legs, finishing off those legs with a pair of Jessica Simpson three inch heels, but I am that happy paradox. I only have one pair of flat shoes. Why would I need more? I have one pair of walking shoes that I quickly remove as soon as my husband and I complete our nightly exercise routine. But I have twenty-two three-inch high heel shoes. How bad can anything get or how low can I feel if I can still wear and carry off high heels?

Nothing makes me feel more like "me" than to walk tall and stride long in my heels. I don't care how much my toes hurt or how scary it is to bobble down a steep descending sidewalk in my spikes. I would rather throw myself in front of an oncoming bus before I show pain or fear or choose comfort over my long, tall shoes.

When I am in my high heel glory, I feel taller. Not just the tall that a few inches add to my 5'3" frame, but really tall and alive and going somewhere, even if it's just to bop into A.C. Moore's to buy yarn for my granddaughter's afghan. I am a woman with purpose and a plan, when I wear my heels. Do I wear them in my house? No, I go barefoot as much as possible, but would I wear them to the grocery store? Every time.

One day I won't be able to wear these wonderful self-esteem builders. I mourn the coming of that time. On that day, I pray I will not have a single sweat shirt to my name, or pair of elastic-waist pants in my dresser. Let my concession to comfortable shoes be the only chink in my feminine armor. Until that "giving-up mornin'," I pray I can continue my journey in my high heel shoes, firm in the hope that my surrender to practicality will not alter the fact that, for as long as God gave strength, one woman gave her all to hold back that point in what seems to be every woman's destiny to say, "But my sneakers are so comfortable."

I offer this comfort food recipe, Cream Biscuits, in distinct contrast to my "form over function" persona.

Recipe

Dry

2 cups all purpose flour

1 tablespoon sugar

2 teaspoons baking powder

½ teaspoon salt

Wet

1 ½ cups heavy cream

Adjust the oven rack to upper-middle position and heat oven to 425 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Whisk together flour, sugar, baking powder and salt in a medium bowl. Add cream and stir with wooden spoon until dough forms, about 30 seconds. Transfer dough from bowl to countertop, and knead by hand just until smooth, but don’t be afraid to knead this puppy. Eight or nine times should do it, but it stand up pretty well to abuse. Roll out the dough to about ½ inch thick. Cut biscuits into rounds (I use a 3” biscuit cutter) and I usually get 10 to 13 biscuits. Place biscuits on the parchment-lined baking sheet and then give each biscuit a light punch with your thumb. This helps it to rise. I don’t know why, but it does. Bake until golden brown, about 15 minutes, but time for 7 ½ minutes; turn baking sheet so that the ones in the front are now in the back. Time for another 7 ½ minutes and remove. After you put biscuits on a cooling rack, slather the tops with butter. Serve hot or put in a plastic bag in the pantry and they will stay pretty fresh for a couple of days.