The Agony of DEFEET

My feet have been begging to write their own post for quite some time now. For a while, I ignored them but they kept clamoring and whining and trying to get into my brain until, finally, I just gave in and let them write. Figuratively, of course, not literally. Because. You know. They can't actually type. And when I finally let them speak, it was with a Jamaican accent. I am so very sorry.

Mon. We do NOT like dis Winter. Dis Winter, she is very bad. Dis Winter, she is cold and wet and uncomfortable. Dis Winter make us very unhappy.

We been stuffed into snow boots.

We been smothered in hot slippers.

We been covered in de socks every single day.

Dis not make us happy, mon. Defeet like de Summer much better. De Summer, she is warm and sunny and happy. Defeet like de Summer. Defeet like to swing from the de side of de pool in de turquoise pool water and walk on de squeaky white sand. Defeet like to have no shoes on. Shoes be bad. Boots be bad. Sandals be good. Bare is de best. Bare be heaven, mon. Heaven.

We been tellin' her we need de pedicure. But she don' lissen. Our polish be chippin' mon. We got de dry, crusty patches. Defeet do NOT like de dry crusty patches. Defeet like to be smooth and pink and pretty. And defeet like de peoples to look at us and think we is pretty. We is a little vain, mon. Yes we is.

Good morning, mon! Wake up! Today be de pedicure day.

It be Spring, mon. Spring! Dis be very good time to have de pedicure. Time for de bath. De shower be quick, but de shower not be good for taking pictures of defeet, mon. And we do like to have our pictures taken. Yes, we do.

Aaaaah, we like de hot bath.

Now de pedicure. Thass what we talkin' about, mon.

Scrubby scrubby scrubby on defeet be very good, mon.

And lotion. Yes, mon. Defeet like de lotion. And de massage. Yes, mon. Dat be verrah good.

Now de polish. Orange, mon. Orange be good for Spring. Don't we look verrah good? Yes, we do.

Now we be happy, mon. We be verrah happy. If she would just take us shoe shoppin'. Dat would be de best.

Imelda's Got Nothing On Me

I just realized this is my second blog post about shoes. I'm not sure what that says about how shallow I am. But I think it says I'm pretty shallow. Shallow but fabulous, dahling. 'Cause my feet look great!

I'm looking at my pretty pink toes peeking out of my slides right now. The weather has changed overnight and it's warm enough to get out all my slides and wear them. We went from boot weather to slide weather virtually overnight. Luckily, I have a fresh pedicure and bright pink toes.

And now, confession time. I have...a lot of shoes. First, I typed "too many" and then I thought, really, what IS too many? Who says that? They fit in my closet, don't they? I wear them all, don't I? I LOVE them, don't I? Well, then, I don't have too many. Do I sound a tad defensive? Well, maybe that's because I really do have...a lot.

See? (And that's really just a few of them...)

I have almost every color. And more than one of some colors. Like the green ones. I have two pairs that are a lime green color. OK, once I got my shoes out to take the picture...I have three lime green pairs. But one pair is kind of dressy and the other pair has a platform bottom. And the other pair...well, I just liked them, OK? They are TOTALLY different, OK?

And I don't have a yellow pair. That has actually been bothering me. I NEED a yellow pair. I'm not sure I have an outfit that would go with a yellow pair, but I still NEED a yellow pair. Because I don't have one. You know?

I have actually said this before, but here's my philosophy about shoes. If the shoe fits, buy it in every color.

I love shoes. But there is just something about slides. They are just...summer. Like fresh lemonade with slices of lemon floating in it. Like the smell of the swimming pool when you go for the first swim of the year. Like the sound of hamburgers sizzling and popping on the hot grill on the deck. Like the feel of the hot sun on your face at the farmer's market.

So I admire my toes. I revel in the sight of my bare feet in my slides. It is a happy moment. A blissful moment. A summer moment.

And yet another reason to love my husband. He took a picture of my foot for me without complaining about it or lecturing me on the silliness of it. Just took it. Then retook it because I said it didn't look right. What a man.