I’m currently working on a couple of chapters for my book. The first chapter looks at learning to walk (which, unless you’ve experienced injury or disability most of us will never engage in as an acquired skill) and the second chapter explores some thoughts I have about walking itself (one of my favourite activities, which I’ve experienced as both an able-bodied and a disabled person). As part of my research, I returned to many of the books I’d previously read and enjoyed about walking.

Reading these books, I’m very struck by how strongly as a genre — and perhaps particularly in the past decade — the literature of walking has been written from an able-bodied perspective. Walking’s ease, inclusivity and independence are routine topics of enthusiasm in many of these popular and beautifully-written books. Walking is gloriously solitary, the walking authors effervesce, and, unlike so many other activities, no special equipment or abilities are required! You just put one foot in front of the other! But the disabled walker knows these are ridiculously blithe, ableist assertions. For the disabled walker, interdependence, on both people and equipment, is an a priori essential for any basic pedestrian act, and any kind of walk might involve the embodied experience of exclusion (in the encounter of uneven surfaces, inclines, obstacles, or the ignorance of others).


(thinking about every step on my first post-stroke walk round Arthur’s Seat)

A couple of years ago when I was learning to drive again after my stroke, my instructor and I were pootling around the streets of a quiet estate north of Glasgow when we came across a young woman, walking unsteadily towards her local shops, not on the pavement, but by the pavement, in the road.
“What a stupid woman!” exclaimed my driving instructor, “what does she think she’s doing? Why doesn’t she walk on the pavement? She’s going to get herself killed.”

I looked at the woman – who, with her leg brace and elbow crutch could have been me – then I looked at the surrounding pavements and the road. I explained the situation to my instructor.

“She can’t walk on the pavement,” I told him, “because there are no drop kerbs. I know the step up doesn’t look like much, but its probably more than she can manage. She needs a continuous, even surface to be able to walk at all, and that’s only available here on the smooth tarmac of the road. Walking on the road at least means she’s able to get out and go to the shops. This pavement is only designed for a certain type of pedestrian.”


(one of my first post-stroke “goal” walks was along the promenade at Lytham -which I selected because of its flatness and accessibility. My dad came with me, and is kindly carrying my bag)

My instructor said I’d made him think that day, and it occurred to me just how much thinking about matters of everyday accessibility disabled walkers routinely find themselves performing. The mind of the disabled walker is continually filled with important questions about surfaces and inclines, places to rest, available facilities, calculations of potential risk. You might think of all that planning ahead, all of that focus on tiny environmental details as a terrible imposition – and yes, it is true that thinking about accessibility has many annoying aspects. But there is also a kind of attentive wisdom to that thinking, and I wonder why that’s not more often talked about in the mainstream literature on walking.

Disabled walkers experience urban and rural space very differently, and, by necessity are continually engaged in a focused attention to their surroundings from which I think the able-bodied walker (and perhaps in particular, the able-bodied walking author) might have quite a bit to learn.


(picking my way over uneven ground at Finlaggan, toward the place where Tom and I were married a few years later)

If you find these issues interesting, you might enjoy exploring the brilliant walking interconnections website. I particularly recommend downloading, and listening to Dee Heddon’s audio-verbatim play, Going for a Walk which brings many insights into disabled walkers “daily practices of resilience.”

63 thoughts on “new paths

  1. Just read Walking. Thank you so much, looking forward to your book. Had a little cry!!! But then gave myself a good talking too. So many of us take walking for granted, and I have been fortunate to walk in some beautiful places, Rhum, Skye, the Highlands….this summer I developed a problem with my big toe. I can still walk, but differently and awkwardly, and I’m sure it’s affecting my opposite hip. So I haven’t been on a good brisk walk for a while. Yesterday a GP said it’s osteoarthritis, take painkillers, loose weight. I tried explaining to him that walking was my way of keeping the weight off. He said “try swimming”. I am so angry at his dismissive attitude. Swimming costs – I can’t just step out my front door when I feel like it and go for a swim – and I hate swimming in chlorinated water.
    So reading your blog, puts my issue in perspective – not sure how, but I will walk, despite the toe problem – maybe I should HOP. Err, no, I do like to knit whilst I walk

    Like

  2. There can be great fear in what seems a simple act of a meandering walk. When my granddaughter was little we could walk all over sometimes even run and I became afraid I would one day not be able to keep up with her and she would run where I could not grab her shirt to stop her. She is autistic and has no use of language or blinders to know where to not go or when to stop thinking cars were made for her to jump in front of and wave her hands in play. So I live as far from cars as I can and big fields nearby. Perfect I thought. And I told all the neighbors if you see the little red headed girl out by herself something is wrong and please help her. Then something happened I never would have imagined happening. We went for a walk on a summer day near noon. It was hot. Too hot I said to my stupid self. And she did something I never imagined. She sat down in the field in the bright sun and wouldn’t get up. At a hundred pounds I could not lift her. I conjoled, I cried, and I begged as I saw her face get redder and redder. Some genetic disorders, disabilities, and diseases prevent our body from regulating our internal temperature through our sweat glands causing our thermostat to rise internally.I could not leave her to run to a neighbor for fear I would see her run off before I could get back to her. This day I had my phone. It took some time but I reached her father and within 30 minutes he arrived to help us. Some days I forget my phone. The choice now is do I even take her for what was once our joy. And how do I do it safely. Keep safe.

    Like

  3. I think we are all guilty of taking many things for granted! I broke my ankle a few years ago and was a bit surprised at how difficult I found it to walk once the bone had healed. It took me quite a while regain confidence with walking – that will probably sound ridiculous to anyone who hasn’t experienced something similar. As for negotiating curbs and other obstacles – I had a terrible time with that when I was on crutches – I found them really hard to use. They were just handed over with no instruction and I’ve never been very athletic so I was kinda pathetic with them!

    Like

    1. I am sorry you were not shown how to use your crutches- when I had my hip done recently, we were not allowed home until we were confident on steps up and down- makes a real difference when you know the technique. We have had a very wet winter/spring, so I am using a walker in preference to sticks- they skid so easily on wet concrete. What a hazard an uneven path can be!?

      Like

  4. I am waiting for a hip replacement and at present have great pain and difficulty in walking around. I too often have to walk in the road if the pavements have too steep a camber for my hip to cope with. Getting on and off buses can also be problematic for me (often having to disembark backwards!!) if the drop between the bus and the kerb is too deep. I long to be able to walk freely and without thought like I did in the past. I am so hoping the waiting time for my operation will not be too extended, and that, indeed, I will be able to get my hip ‘done’ on the NHS.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Having recently had a knee replacement I can identify with this – at the moment I am getting back to ‘normal’ and now and again feel just euphoric that I can walk again – the last two years I had been a prisoner to my arthritis. I don’t want to forget how it feels though to be excluded from so many things .. most of us never consider these issues until we are directly affected and people can be very dismissive of the problems that people face. I wish everyone could feel what it’s like for just one week so they could empathise more with the problems that a disability causes.

    Like

  6. We do take things like walking for granted. I’ve just been on a +1000 km journey with a group of women, one of whom had a wheeled walking frame we had to keep putting into and out of the bus. I am full of admiration for Sarie for being willing to go on that journey and wheeling along in all sorts of terrain.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. am mike and am not disabled but i feel for disabled but i have read your article and now i see the hardship the disabled go through …i wish you all the best for your coming book and i hope i will have a chance to read it kate …God bless

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Thank you for a very thoughtful article Kate. I recently had a three week episode of double vision, which played havoc with my ability to undertake even the simplest walk outside – I suddenly had no confidence that when I put my foot down it would actually hit what my eyes perceived as the ground. Steps, stairs and curbs were particularly hard because I saw two of each and had no way to tell which one was real. The only way I could move about was at a slow shuffle where neither foot left the ground for too long. I certainly have a new appreciation now of drop stones, well-maintained paths, and handrails now.

    Slightly tangentially, you might also be interested in this article about the gap between those who walk for pleasure, and those who walk because they have to.
    https://theoutline.com/post/2116/walk-this-way-the-pleasure-and-pain-of-walking

    Like

  9. Anyone who has a permanent or even a temporary disability involving walking knows the anguish you describe when faced with what others perceive to be a “mere” step up. Unable to will your body to bring up your leg off the ground sufficient to make the step, or even if that feat is possible, not strong or able enough to bring up the rest of your body along is a moment burned in your memory. The frustration. The despair.

    Looking forward to reading your book.

    Like

  10. Kate, you have really made me think. As someone who loves walking who broke her ankle in April, my drive has been to get back to ‘normal’ as quickly as possible. And as a coach, I have been hatching plans fostered during my time less-abled to bring coaching and walking together: coaching helps you think and walking helps you think, so it seems they could be happy partners. But you’re quite right that able-bodied experience of walking is only a part of the picture, as I should know well, even from my limited recent experience. In practice this means my coaching will be not just for people who can yomp across hills, but who walk/ move about in different ways… thank you

    Like

  11. IN OUR GENES and in our feet—
    My Irish father was a walker. Every single day after work.
    My sisters are walkers.
    My brother is a walker and is still walking up and down the halls in a nursing home. The staff can’t believe it—in fact, they sometimes feed him sandwiches to help him with the extra calories he’s burning up.

    As for me, I just ordered all the books in your post!!!
    (wanna-be walker)
    x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
    Teri

    Liked by 1 person

  12. A fascinating and perceptive insight Kate as always. I remember 20 years ago timetabling in my large secondary school where we had a number of disabled students, cerebral palsy and sight impairment being among the issues. In those days school buildings were not designed to cope with disability, not so now fortunately, and apart from a few outer doors with ramps and a special stair lift for wheelchairs, which was complicated to use and not available in all of our buildings, we had limited provision for disability. My solution was to try and timetable the classes of these children in downstairs rooms and I was very proud of the fact that I had largely managed to achieve that, while still giving access to specialist rooms like labs and IT suites. Soon after the start of the school year we discovered that there were all sorts of smaller steps over doorsteps and between sections of corridor that none of us had really noticed before. Like your pavements without drops Kate, these were huge barriers and opened our eyes even wider to the problems our disabled children faced every hour of their lives. I think we’re better at it now but perhaps not?

    Liked by 1 person

  13. I am just coming back from meniscus surgery. I am working on my leg strength and usage. All of this rehab has been great for me as a reminder of what others deal with all the time. My surgery was minor and my recovery is coming right a long in a short period of time.

    I know we all need reminders to be grateful for what we do have and to remember just why some one may be doing something differently!

    Liked by 1 person

  14. Kate, I cannot wait for your new book to be finished. I am looking forward to reading it. I particularly enjoyed this post because I have cerebral palsy and your observations about picking smooth flat even surfaces and risk assessment are something I do every day without really thinking about it. I had only thought about it really one other time when a colleague of mine was asked to move to a new office and she wanted to store some things in my office. I did not have a problem with this however she got upset when I said that certain pieces of furniture had to be flush against the wall so that they would be out of my pathways . After we discussed my various mobility issues that I think about each and every time I go to wall she saw my point.

    Thank you for sharing your story and as always you’re fantastic photographs!

    Liked by 1 person

  15. And stiles! On a good day I can manage a short walk in the countryside, which is great for physical and mental health, but if there is a stile in the way it is often an insurmountable obstacle even with help. Or even a stiff and heavy gate if I was not with an able bodied helper, which I usually am these days, but hands are often not considered. Like in disabled toilets if the flush is a hard and deep button press, my fingers are not strong enough to do that. It is humiliating not to be able to flush the toilet! I have been known to use the handle of a toilet brush if there is one handy… So many aspects of disability not considered, even if some are.

    Liked by 2 people

  16. Thank you. I find walking books frustrating and infuriating for these very reasons. And then there are the “biking” books too – which all assume two wheels rather than three!
    And a group I belong to have organised a trip to an alpaca farm. I had to gently remind the secretary that quite a number of people in the group won’t be able to go because they won’t be able to manage the terrain. (I am still waiting for a response.) I am sure it wasn’t deliberate. They just didn’t think.

    Liked by 1 person

  17. What a beautiful and inspiring life story, thank you. What an amazing way to express your experience, i can feel how many people you have touched and inspired. Good luck with your future aspirations ! I look forward to your book. Mindfulness is so important for everyone on the journey to happiness. Much love.

    Liked by 1 person

  18. Thank you, this is beautifully written and insightful. Your post-stroke posts were partially the inspiration for me going back to school to become an occupational therapist. I’m looking forward to reading your book and sharing it with others!

    Liked by 1 person

  19. Thank you for posting this. I think it is important for able-bodied walkers to appreciate just how lucky they are to put one foot in front of another without the fear of falling or pain. I had to re-learn to walk after a serious injury. I will never again take for granted the miracle of walking across the floor. I am very thankful that I am now able to hike again. I use walking poles and am mindful of every step. I am also thankful that you are also able to hike and share your experiences with us.

    Liked by 1 person

  20. Back in the ’70s in the US there was considerable huffing and puffing about the ‘ridiculous’ expense of trying to make the country a little easier for people w/ a variety of disabilities to get around. Now that the baby boom generation is losing some of our mobility it’s especially going to be appreciated. But it’s still limited and I think many things are designed by able bodied people who drive everywhere. There’s a bridge over a freeway in a town nearby that I once had to walk when it was frozen and the sidewalk had no hand rail for most of the way. Very slippery and scary. That said, I now live in the country and walk on the pavement because there are no shoulders to the road.

    Liked by 1 person

  21. Than you Kate, you have made me realise how most of us take walking for granted. It is so important for us all to understand these issues that arise for those who do have difficulties walking. I do hope your writing will assist Local Councils and other government departments to assess and reconfigure our open spaces to make Walking a pleasure for everyone.

    Liked by 1 person

  22. After 6 knee replacements, and a life now spent wearing a brace on one knee for stability, I fully appreciate this post. I find walking on any surface other than smooth concrete or asphalt virtually impossible, and grass that looks like the most lush and verdant golf course is in fact full of hidden ups and downs. I used to be a walker, but I struggle now to just get through the day. Your post will open the eyes of many, Kate.

    Liked by 1 person

  23. Thank you for this thoughtful post! I don’t have any mobility impairments but I live in a relatively new city so when I visit an old city with lots of sunken pavers, loose bricks, and messily filled potholes I will invariably trip over an uneven surface that I expected to be flat. I always wonder how people with mobility issues get around in these messy spaces, especially if circumstances require them to use public transit. I hope city planners will get a hold of your book and give it a serious read!

    Like

  24. I was hit by a car, as a pedestrian, and learnt to walk again. My memories are of the utter fear of falling, of being in awe of little old ladies on Zimmer frames, (they are brave!) And now I look at anyone in a wheelchair or similar, and know how much they go through just to get up, washed, toileted and feed. Thank you Kate for your work.

    Like

  25. I hope there is a way of your thoughts reaching the widest possible audience. It is a testament to courage and to thoughtfulness and reflection – it is humbling for the rest of us who complain about the most insignificant of things. I hope we can all be a little more patient with those who appear to inconvenience us but who may struggle in ways we cannot imagine.

    Like

  26. Yup. I’ve had a back injury and now have trouble with balance, walking any distance, and steps — oh, steps! Also suffer from migraines and I wonder if they have caused any damage. I really appreciate this coming into the forefront, as one of my doctors said, “You don’t look sick.”

    Like

  27. Those of us navigating the world with prams owe a debt of gratitude to the accessibility activists who have gone before us, there’s no doubt. And even though I live in the hospital district, close to a spinal rehab centre, many of the patients choose to use the street instead of the uneven sidewalks to get around the neighbourhood.

    Liked by 2 people

  28. Dear Kate,

    In March 1993 I was captured while serving in the US Army in the Balkans. A terrable time to even speak of, but I too understand about my own physical losses, and learning to become an independent person once again. I wasn’t to make IT back from my injuries.

    After 8 years of service to my country, I have a very basic life. I did become a nurse and worked 15 years. Yet, I have surcome to social work pressure that has taken much of what was gained by hard work away.

    I had specialized in brain and spinal cord rehabilitation nursing. I have said many times to newly graduated nurses, “UNLESS you have walked a mile in the shoe’s of those you are taking care of, you have no comprehension just what it takes to come back.”

    I am so appreciative for the work you are doing. Telling us about the paths of your own recovery. Thank you for your assistance and hope.

    Mary Lopez DE MORALES, LPN Grand Forks BC Canada

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Yes, this! Having a pram has made me much more aware of the lack of drop-curbs, and the dangerously uneven pavement in my neighborhood, and I’m embarrassed it wasn’t previously on my radar. I can now do a far better job of planning outings for friends and family members with various mobility problems.

      Like

  29. A combination of mild cerebral palsy affecting my left side and balance and advancing age/osteoarthritis means that I use Nordic poles walking anywhere – cue for shouts of “where’s your skis?” Etc. A shortened Achilles’ tendon meant I got used to just swinging my left leg through until the surgeon replacing my right hip decided to shorten the leg to even things up. Eight years later I am still even more unbalanced and can stand in front of a step or curb wondering which leg to lead and put the weight on. I am currently told that the pain in my lazy left hip is from my arthritic spine as it has never been used enough to wear out. I can sympathise with all who write as, despite specialist physio I have fallen and broken or dislocated joints and it takes a great mental effort to keep walking despite the fear and snail’s pace as one looks for tripping hazards. Thanks Kate for being an inspiration.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hello Geeha,
      I noted in your post, that you have mild cerebral palsy that affects your left side. I too have cerebral palsy that affects my left side. I am curious, about your knitting do you knit English or Continental? I knit English but would love to learn how to hold the moving or working knitting needle and yarn in my left hand and so many people tell me that it is quicker. Thank you in advance for taking the time to respond to my comment/question.

      Like

  30. Kate,
    Before I retired, I worked at the U.S. Access Board in Washington DC. The Access Board is developing guidelines for Accessible Streets and Sidewalks. These will cover access to public rights-of-way, including sidewalks, intersections street crossings, and on-street parking. More info: Access Board website with links to the Guidelines is http://www.access-board.gov under Guidelines and Standards.

    Liked by 1 person

  31. My youngest was born with challenges that made it very difficult to walk. Every day we worked together making games out of the exercises he needed for physical and occupational therapy. A second neurosurgery a year later resulted in having to relearn how to walk. This is hard to explain to someone not yet 3! He also had the challenge of a part of his skull being removed and me needing to learn to help him become mobile and not live in a bubble. The decision to get a dog helped give extra reason to walk through many uneven terrains in city and forest. Never underestimate the strength of will and love of family, and a dog, to help you take steps you need. Thank you Kate for being so open in sharing your story. We all need to take a breath and think before we lay judgement of others. We never know the effort it takes to make a journey.

    Liked by 4 people

  32. Such an interesting post, Kate. I’m the parent of a multiple amputee son, so have spent many years looking at the world through his viewpoint, realizing that things I take for granted are daily challenges for him. As a walker myself, I have to say your pile of books looks very interesting!

    Liked by 1 person

  33. Your post makes me also think of the elderly. My mother, now 88, walks carefully and must be very attentive on stairs. She had a hip replacement in her early seventies, which alleviated much pain and restored her mobility. But now she keeps a cane handy, even in the house, because she gets stiff from sitting and needs to be aware of balance. She still lives alone so must be very careful. So, your post got me to thinking about how even the able-bodied lose ability in the elder years.
    Are you reading the Grassmere Journals too?

    Liked by 3 people

  34. Two knee replacements later (and the years of pain and debility leading up to them) finds me applauding you and nodding my head in agreement. We’ve had different paths, but each required a heck of a lot of thought, effort, grit, and rehab.

    Liked by 2 people

  35. Thank you for this! My recent hospitalization (73 days over four winter months) caused severe muscle weakness. This, coupled with intense and agressive chemotherapy, which resulted in foot neuropathy, has left me unable to walk properly and with tremendous balance issues. I routinely aim for the graded drop kerbs when walking and still use a tall Hobbit-style walking stick, as much for balance as for confidence. The height of a kerb seems minimal to most people but is still an overwhelming (and frustrating) barrier. I am improving slowly, thanks to physical therapy, but my return to being an avid walker will be a long process. As a result, my attitude towards walking – which was always my preferred method of travel and exercise – has forever changed and I will never again take it for granted. Bless you for this post!

    Liked by 1 person

  36. A few years ago a friend of mine with her mother, who is on a wheelchair, came to Prague for a visit and I spent a couple of days with them, showing them my city. I had thought before that everything was quite accessible, but to experience it in reality was something very different. Getting to some places was nearly impossible, as sometimes was finding information online (on accessible toilets etc.). There was a special disabled-friendly low-floor bus line going to the center (once in two hours or so) which I was quite happy to find… but what nobody had apparently thought about were the windows: too high for a person on a wheelchair to see anything! Obviously, the main metro stations were built in a time when nobody considered these issues seriously and I understand quite well that to add elevators later on is not easy in a dense urban environment but frankly, it is sometimes quite a humiliating experience to use them: for example, to change between two main lines you have first to ascend to the surface in the middle of a dirty parking lot, navigate some difficult terrain around grass and kerbs, cross a busy arterial road and only than you can take another elevator down to get to the second metro line… It really is a completely different city when you have to get somewhere as a disabled person and need to plan for everything ahead. I now make use of this experience when I go to town with a pram… when I see that the elevators are marked “for people with movement AND ORIENTATION difficulties” I have to laugh!

    Like

  37. Hello kate when I was younger I spent 13 weeks flat on my back because both my eyes where padded and bandaged up because of that was fed washed and every thing then no such thing then as physio so know what you mean truly.

    Like

  38. This is very helpful. My husband was hit by a van 2 weeks ago while he was walking on the side walk. He fractured his left knee and right wrist and is currently using a walker for the next few months. He is very grateful for this information. Thank you!

    Like

  39. You have just encapsulated the frustration I feel after being a very strong walker for most of my life but now am unable to walk as far as my bus stop. Thank you.

    Liked by 2 people

  40. Thinking about the driving instructor, it strikes me that this form of thinking is that a permanent view change. My father was a happy but disabled walker my entire life, and despite the fact that I’ve long reached adulthood (and he’s been gone for a couple of years), I still count stairs, take notice of bumpy sidewalks, become frustrated by unnecessary thresholds and a lack of curb cuts, and obsessively keep the walkways inside my apartment clean and clear of obstacles. In the end, it’s a strange comfort to be reminded of him and inspired by the way, after a later in life stroke also struggled to relearn how to walk, that walking – despite years of existing pain and difficulty – was still him a primordial need. That perambulation, however difficult, is also profoundly human.

    Liked by 1 person

  41. I appreciate your clear insights into the challenges of disabled walkers. After three back surgeries, two knee replacements, and a ruptured quadriceps tendon…, I relearned how to walk 3 times in 18 months. The hardest part was the fear of falling and convincing my brain that I was going to move forward…. it has been an interesting exploration into the power of the mind and healing. I’ve been reading your posts for years and you have helped me face & understand my own challenges. Thank you for sharing your journey, it has helped me move forward in mine…. BTW-your observation about switching shoes, to help with balance, is something I still do. You are my inspiration!

    Liked by 1 person

  42. This post made me cry, Kate. My partner had surgery for a congenital problem a number of years ago. He said he didn’t appreciate that because he didn’t have a visible injury that people made assumptions about him and weren’t helpful. Your post reminds us that even if a difficulty is somewhat visible, we don’t always understand all of the implications thereof. This is a good reminder to always live with the assumption that anyone could be “fighting a geat battle” and to think before we judge.

    Liked by 1 person

  43. Your perceptions are quite apt. After I had undergone major surgery to repair a hernia of 40 years standing, I found recovering my centre of balance a challenge. Although there is no doubt that hernia repair is not the same as having suffered a stroke, nonetheless I found that I had great difficulty in standing up straight and in walking in a straight line. (The muscle memory of having had 40 kilos of excess weight for 40 years complicated the process.) I have spent several years relearning these skills and am now finally able to walk without looking as though I’m inebriated. I can also sometimes enjoy the view without constantly watching where I put my feet.
    I read with great interest your careful and detailed work.. I am in awe and I congratulate you for your determination and success.

    Like

  44. Thank you, Kate, this was wonderful! Before I had my hip replacement, walking had become very difficult, even with a cane or two walking sticks. And now it is still not the easiest thing. I am trying to increase the distance I am able to walk. You put all the difficulties so articulately!! Thanks again, very much.

    Like

    1. This has been my experience, too- I needed a ramp built to exit the house- that has finally happened one and a half months after my operation, but I still need a path and new gate to get out with my walker- mud on concrete is very dangerous with a cane. Worse than that though, a motorcycle accident at 23 years has caught up with me at last, and I have very limited feeling in my hands because of the injury to my cervical vertebrae. This is a very tough sentence for a knitter.

      Like

  45. And just like that, I understand why the woman who walks on the pavement, instead of the sidewalk, in my neighborhood does so. Thank you, Kate, for that much-needed dope slap.

    Like

leave a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s