It just gets busier and busier around here.

The quest for shoes has finally come to an end. It seems I have feet that just might be the widest in the known world. The first shoe store I entered had not one pair of shoes that accepted more than a few toes of my beautiful feet. Store after store offered me attractive shoes for the narrow little feet I do not have.

"Perhaps," I thought, "I need 'Herring boxes without topses', instead of shoes."

Having given up hope, I wandered the aisles at Zellers. To my great surprise a salesperson asked me if I needed any help. Encouraged by this unexpected bit of customer service, I explained my dilemma. After helping me partially dip my toes into several pairs of shoes, the salesclerk suggested trying a pair that sported elastic uppers. They looked the wrong shape and seemed the wrong color. However, I was in no position to reject possibilities, no matter how remote.

To my amazement my foot entered the shoe without resistance. The sandal straps held my feet a little too tightly, but I estimated that I could bear that level of pain for the duration of the wedding ceremony. This particular pair of shoes was on sale, two thirds off the regular price. I bought them on the spot, thinking that perhaps I would find something more comfortable and the right color if I kept looking. I was purchasing insurance against failure with that pair of shoes.

The color matches the dress perfectly.

My lack of faith in fashion, or at least my sense of it, has been affirmed.

I do not have the heart to look any further for shoes. I will take a needle and thread with me to the wedding ceremony and retreat afterwards to bring up the hem of the dress. Then I will wear my aged and comfortable black leather slippers to the reception. I will dance at my daughter's wedding.

The next item on my shopping list is a bra. I will not go into the details. I will say that the purchase of the shoes was probably a lot more fun than the next unmentionable shopping trip which looms large in my future. I will be looking desperately for a store with kind and gentle "customer service".

Every day, as I sit sipping coffee, comfortable in my scruffy old overalls and t-shirt, I thank the universe for my good luck. Certainly I am very lucky to be wearing comfortable, inexpensive clothing. I am old enough that young-and-beautiful are out of reach forever.

Truth be told though, young-and-beautiful never did hold much appeal for me. I just did not enjoy that kind of attention. I was not interested in "looking like a million bucks" unless someone was willing to hand over said amount of cash. Even if I have found someone willing to make such an investment, I think the level of personal discomfort involved in "looking like a million bucks" might have inspired me to give them a refund and renege on the deal.

As a young girl, the idea of climbing trees always seemed more appealing than wearing dresses. All that has changed is that climbing trees is getting a little more difficult to accomplish at my age.

Luna, do you realize what concessions I am making in your honor? No? Well, never mind, mothers are often called upon to make sacrifices for their offspring. Remember though, one wedding only per daughter. Otherwise, my overalls will have to suffice.

On Sunday last, Terra and I drove bravely through the countryside to attend a shower for Luna. The maid of honor welcomed us at the door and we both had a very nice time. Luna enjoyed the attentions of the women in her life. Mothers and daughters and sisters and nieces and small children and babies all joined to celebrate the upcoming rite of passage in her life.

She received lovely gifts, some personal, some for her future household.

The last gift opened was the collage of portraits I printed for her, six generations of mothers, all born in Canada. The maid of honor asked me to present her with the gift. I had not expected this and found myself overwhelmed by emotion as I handed her the beribboned box containing generations of mother love.

"Oh," she said, "don't cry. I haven't cried yet!"

I tried to stop the tears, I really did. All I managed was a good loud snort, which did not stem the waters.

So, I cried.

She opened the gift and became teary. She did not have to say anything. The look in her eyes, as she lifted them from the portraits to my face, will last me a lifetime.