Walk a Mile in Her Shoes

Walk a Mile in Her Shoes   -- The International Men's March to Stop Rape, Sexual Assault and Gender Violence has come to the Asheville area. And while the intent is excellent, somehow the idea of men staggering along in high heels seems to me to send a mixed message.

What kind of fool would subject her feet to these things?

I won't even mention the hairdo.

What do your shoes say about you?

What do your feet and your shoes say about you?


The site of these little stinky feet in pale red Crocs makes me smile.


My seven-year-old son lives in these shoes,
except on days he has PE,
when he has to wear his tennis shoes.

To me, these mean he can put them on himself and be out the door quickly.
They represent his favorite color...and independence.

My older son, who's 12, wears a larger size shoe than I do now.
I don't know why that amazes me, but it does.

He's growing so fast.
Sure the hormone brothers visit occasionally,
but he's such a great kid.

We have the most incredible conversations.

He usually only wears tennis shoes.
My sensible kid.

And this is me in all my paleness.
I just realized I'm pale beyond pale...from wearing pants to work every day.

I usually live in shorts, but we can't wear those at work...

so this year, I'm paler than pale.

I'm paleness defined.

I used to have only a few pairs of shoes that I wore.
Now I have a ton...and I wear them all the time.
I have my cowgirl boots I wear at least once a week with a fun skirt.
And the plethora of shoes my mom gave me for work.

My latest desire?
Pink boots.

If you bought some cowgirl boots, what color would you want?
What do your shoes say about you?

Did you know there are websites devoted to celebrity feet?
And I'd totally love to visit the Bata Shoe Museum

I think I killed the Shoe Fairy

Last night I was up late on the computer, when I heard a strange noise.
It sounded like tap dancing...coming from my bathroom.

I woke up Annie, the vicious attack dog,
and grabbed one of my kids' Star Wars light sabers...
and headed into the bathroom...

just in time to see my gigantic pile of dirty laundry fall onto the shoe fairy.

I think I killed her.

But the good news is, she left behind...

Ok, maybe I lied.

I do that sometimes.

I'm a writer.
I'm creative.
I can't help it.

My mom was about to get rid of a bunch of shoes she can't wear anymore.

And she gave them to me!

Woohoo!!

Bathroom Confessions & Football Gear

As you can tell from my myster photos from yesterday, we went to Academy a few days ago.

We had to buy my older son, Donny, who's eleven, some football gear. It was surprisingly challenging. Especially since I never bought football gear before. Ever. I really don't know anything about it.

The boys had fun trying on helmets. Turns out, you need a helmet that hurts, just a little, and one that won't move when you shake your head and you can't fit a finger between it and your forehead. Did you know that? They also have pads inside the helmet. Cheeks pads and such.

Remy really wanted a helmet.

But they're expensive, y'all.

They cost from around $70 to $170.

So, we only got one for Donny. I mean, sheesh.

And, oh my gosh, there was this one kid trying on helmets, and he got a helmet STUCK on his head. STUCK. It took a dad and two store employees to pry it off. It was not a pretty sight.

Then, I had to go potty.

When you're in a stall, you should look at the ceiling.

You wanna know why?

Because once I was in a fancy hotel or restaurant bathroom with my mom, and she told me to look at the ceiling. I did, and my mouth dropped open. The ceiling was mirrored. We could see in EVERY stall. No privacy. And it was a nice establishment!!

So, now I look at bathroom ceilings. Paranoia, I guess.

While I was sitting on the toilet, I decided to take a picture of my foot.

Doesn't everyone take photos of their feet on the potty?

Anyone?

Anyone?

Just me?

See, I told you I painted my toes blue.

They match my newish flip-flops.

Those pink ankle beads were a gift in a Pinkalicious swap I participated in online.

You should sign up for those when you see them.

They're fun.

I wonder what my bathroom stallmates thought I was taking pictures of?

hehe

Then, after I washed my hands...

what, you doubt I washed my hands?

I did.

I think.

Anyway, I decided to take a picture of myself, in the bathroom mirror.

You do that too, right?

I wanted to catalog my new hair style.

Am I too old to wear braided pigtails?

Wait, don't answer that.

When I came out of the bathroom, I found Remy playing with Donny's shoulder pads.

Remy wanted some sooooo bad.

But, they were like $50, and I wasn't about to buy him some if he didn't NEED them.

Donny needed them.

Here are the football cleats we found for $30. Quite a deal, I think.

Although, seriously, all these cleats, whether for football, soccer or baseball,

they all looks pretty similar to me.

It's a racket, I tell you, a money racket, a conspiracy to separate me from my money.

And, oh, those other shoes in the picture, Donny got those at Payless for $11.

He loves them, and keeps telling everyone he got them for $11.

I'm trying to teach him to keep his mouth shut.

I mean, not EVERYONE needs to know we bought them for $11.

Did you know they sell slot machines at Academy?

My boys wanted to buy these.

How fun would that be?

They also sell these. Go-carts.

My boys also wanted them.

NO, we did not buy one.

When we got home, Donny put his near gear on.

Doesn't he look tough?

I can't believe my baby's going to be playing football.

My first born.

My little Donny-bear.

The Importance of being Unimportant

I found out today that one of my brother-in-laws, (one of my five sisters' husbands) got to be at the New York Stock Exchange and help ring the opening bell. Very cool! What an important thing to get to do! One of those things I certainly will never get to cross off my To Do list. Way to go, Q!


Another of my brother-in-laws (another sister's husband) is on Easter Island this week or last week. What an important place to visit! I mean, who can say they've been to Easter Island? For those of you who don't know, Easter Island is rather mysterious, in the middle of freaking nowhere (way west of Chile in the middle of the Pacific Ocean) and has the awesome ancient statues sculped out of volcanic rock all over the island. Way too cool, M!

I'm pretty jealous...although I did hear there was some kind of insect infestation, which produces nightmaric images in my mind.


You know where I went yesterday? Not New York, the stock exchange or Easter Island. I went to the Dr's office, where I was made to feel very unimportant. I spent most my time in the exam room looking at this wall...

Which led me to start wondering if I had any of these diseases or disorders displayed so prolifically. I'm a bit of a hyperchondriac...I often end up on WebMD, researching esoteric diseases I'm convinced I have. Don't get me started.


I also went to baseball practice yesterday. Not a super important task to most people, but super important to me and the two young men pictured below. See Remy, my six year old left-handed, pinch hitter and Donny, my bored looking 11 year old carrying a lethal stick that doubled as a baseball bat during his little brother's practice...

Donny has a weird hat choice with his UT Longhorn jersey...

I've taken to carrying my camera everywhere, for blog material, and when I explain this to Donny, my eleven year old, he gives me this look...

So, feeling slightly unimportant after hearing about what my brothers-in-law are up to, I find the need to get therapy with shopping...some new shoes...

By the way, is it bad to feed the dog lasagna?