I’ve been giving this some thought. I’ve watched HGTV and lots of shows about decorating – not because I like to decorate, but because I like to see the different ideas people have and how much personal taste influences how welcoming and comforting a space can be to a family – or with the wrong flooring, lighting and a hundred other things, how alienating a place can feel.

Hardwood or carpet . . . or tile?
Vertical blinds or lace curtains or no window coverings at all or voluminous draping masses of material?
What style of kitchen?
Oh, and Heaven help anyone who guesses what someone else would like for a wall covering.
Basement to work in? Basement to relax in? Basement to provide a space for jumping up and down full of energy kids?

That’s probably why custom homes are in all the magazines and why professionally decorated homes of the rich are in those same magazines. Of course, some people just want a roof over their heads that doesn’t leak; some people want to make a statement; most of us are like Goldilocks – we like things “Just right.” And that brings us back to architects and decorators and the expenditure of money.

But let’s say you can’t start from square one with an expensive architect and a completely blank drawing board, along with a fashionable decorator. So how can you make your own home out of a “used” house?

On the other hand, let’s say you have a “used” house – the one you are living in – and you are thinking, “How can I stage this house to attract buyers?” Yes, that word STAGE . . . Well, you can go neutral and then someone will want to change the color. Or you can go trendy and dramatic and a potential conservative buyer will think, if not outright exclaim, “Oh, Gawd!” It’s a guessing game.

It would be interesting if there were an eharmony for buying and selling – a business that facilitated changing one person’s house into another’s home.

I have been walking my path around Kendallville for three years now and it dawned on me that once I had adapted to walking, I was simply using the same muscles over and over again. Now that’s good for my heart muscle, but my legs have lots of muscles and some of them were not being used. I noticed this especially when I was walking with the sun behind me and my shadow nice and clear in front of me. It was disconcerting to see the flesh on my inner thighs jiggle with every step and at first I thought, “I need to walk more.” –  the “We need a bigger boat” Jaws signature line.

Thinking about it some more, I decided I needed to try different strides, having my little duck legs really stretch out. Right away, muscles that had been silent started yelling at me, threatening to burn and ache in the morning. It was effective blackmail – I walked with a longer stride intermittently, going back to my accustomed gait quite often.

I do look like a silent movie comedy scene when I stretch out my legs in steps geared to gulp up the sidewalk. I don’t think about that; it’s better that way.  Of course, not thinking about it does not mean that other people are not watching me go past and thinking, “That lady ain’t quite right.” Once you realize that is happening, you figure, heck, you might as go whole hog.

I decided that it would work more muscles, including those at my waist, if I zig-zagged from one side of the sidewalk to the other with my legs, while keeping my upper body aimed straight down the middle. It turns out it has also helped strengthen my knees and ankles because I am altering the stress put on them. It also turned out that I appear to be not certain of where I am going – maybe a little tipsy. Add to that an occasional stumble and Voila, there you have it, the little old lady who takes too many “medicinal” nips from the Elderberry wine.

I considered doing some upper arm exercise while walking, but figured that would put me in the Jim Beam category and/or at an interview for what is politically incorrectly called the “funny farm”  – and not in the HA HA sense of the word.

On top of everything else, I occasionally put a white moisturizer on my face because the perspiration makes it lose its color and expanding pores soak in the cleansing elements. It takes me awhile to get enough sweat on my face to turn the white to clear and given the white face, the zig-zags and the frequent lunging steps, I suspect I look not only tipsy, but like a clown.

Well, that might not be far from the truth.