shoes

Walking toward adventure

As you may have guessed, I care not to wait. Friends scoff when they hear mention of my name anywhere near “patience.”

And yet here I am, waiting. I’m not loving it.

At this point there’s but one thing to be done: go shoe shopping, naturally.

When I cleaned out my bedroom closet last week, I finally let go of my Stonefly Mary Janes. I bought them years go; and by years, we’re talking closer to decades. I loved them to bits. So classic; so comfy. I can’t begin to tell you the places I walked in those shoes, the dances I danced. They neared the end once before, mind you–but it was nothing a Shoe Doctor couldn’t fix. Today, however, it would have required total reconstruction. 

Saying goodbye to faithful goods rivals waiting.

And yet these fellows promise to ease the pain … oh yes, I think they just might … 

Walkin’ on the sunshine

You would think I would have learned my lesson.  But, alas, I love these adorable sandals–wooden heel and all! 

{wooden geranium platform sandals from Ruche}

I think the day would be that much brighter just by wearing them … pretty sure …    

Weekend rundown

shoes

The last few days were spent in the company of friends.  What could be better?  Yeah, I can’t think of anything either.  Here’s a glimpse at where the weekend took me …

Edwards 21.  It was my aunt’s 60th birthday – like a month ago – and let’s just say it hasn’t been her favorite milestone.  But by Jove, my mom and I were determined to take her out and have some fun!  After endless torment, she finally relented.  Lunch and a movie.  That was the deal.  So off we went … and what better film than “Up” to lift the spirits, right?  As my aunt planted her face in her hands, in tears, we thought perhaps we had misjudged.  Thankfully, by the end she was gushing that it must be the greatest feel good movie of the year!  PHEW!  Oh, and for the record, I may be the only person who cried at Die Hard, but such was not the case with this movie.  As a matter of fact, I found out yesterday that a friend’s friend – a teenage boy no less – cried.  So.  There.   

Idaho Fry Company.  Oh yes, a group of friends and I visited the infamous Idaho Fry Company (Soon-to-be-Something-Else Company because the Idaho Potato Commission is a group of morons – Oooh, did I say that out loud?!  Whoopsie – my bad!)  After scarfing a burg and yam fries I have but this to say:  LOVE!  So good … soooooo good!  I also tried the purple fries and the shoestring fries – which were like a party in a spud.  And the artwork – was it a frog or an alien? – I haven’t a clue, but it was a lot of fun!  And I said so – aloud – several times – though no one paid me any mind.  Needless to say, if you haven’t paid a visit to the Idaho Fry Company, you must.  And while you’re at it, peruse their website.  It’s some good times …

Esther Simplot Performing Arts Academy.  Our little Noah is all grown up.  Sigh.  And now I’m saying things that old people … really old people … use to say about me.  [SOB!!!]  But I digress.  So yesterday was his graduation celebration.  As he and his friends performed, I kept thinking of when he was this little boy who played this huge cello.  See?  There I go again!  It was good music, followed by good food and good friends.  The only downside was my shoes.  My shoes killed my feet.   When I got home, and plied them off my mutilated extremities, I had shooting pains running through my toes and up my ankle.  Something tells me this is not a good sign.  Pity, as they are cuter than ever – I may have to relegate them to decoration …

Oh the humanity!

Humiliating Episode #523:

I have a certain pair of sandals with a goofy wooden heel and absolutely no arch support.  To say they are tricky to walk in would be the understatement of the year; but they are so terribly cute and so I must.  Or so I thought until yesterday.

Yesterday I was wearing said shoes.  The clinic my mom works for is a sponsor of the Women’s Fitness Celebration and it was mum’s turn to man the booth.  Being the good daughter that I am, I offered to swing by and pick her up so she wouldn’t have to pay the approximate price of a small island to park. 

Being the lovely fall day that is was, I decided to detour through 8th Street Marketplace – meander about, do a bit of window shopping.  I had just checked to see how big my butt looked in the Urban Outfitters window when I realized something was terribly amiss.  That’s where things get a bit fuzzy…

All I know for sure is my ankle buckled … I struggled, I flailed, I yelled “S-ii-tt!” Only that’s not what I said. The next thing I knew I was on all fours, my purse flung to the ground in front of me.  Considering that a major event was going on directly across the street I was not lacking in spectators.  Like it wasn’t bad enough to be in such a position in the middle of a shopping district–but to be surrounded by people gaping in horror? 

You have GOT to be kidding me! 

Oh yes, I said it.  Out loud.  *sigh* 

Needless to say, from that point forward it was typical HRT (Humiliation Response Tactics):  I grabbed my purse, stood up, and limped off as if nothing had happened.  And I did it all while praying I would never again be forced to face the 100 or so faces that witnessed it all. I prayed all the more when I saw a cute guy on a bike, waiting for the light to change so he could cross the street.  Unfortunately, my prayers reached the pearly gates a bit too late; he snickered as he passed.  Wretched luck. 

Perhaps the worst part of all is the fact that the thought crossed my mind – several times actually – that I really should change my shoes before heading downtown.  But I brushed the thought away.  After all, they matched my outfit perfectly; they were cuter than ever; AND they were already on my feet.  Not to mention, I would ony be out for a short period of time.  If only I had paid heed.

The moral of the story is this: If God tells you to change your shoes before going out in public, change your shoes …