Shoe Shopping, Friday the 13th and Other Disasters

I'm pretty sure that I've established that I am not your average red-blooded American girl.

Did I ever mention that I HATE shoe shopping?

Now I LOVE SHOES...but I can not stand the practice of going from store to store looking for the perfect pair of shoes. Actually, I can't find the perfect pair of shoes, because for me, they don't exist.

Mainly, because I wear a size 11 (that's a 9 for you men-folk). I think they might be a normal size if I didn't have these freakishly long, monkey toes. The longest, my second toe, is two inches long, a full half inch longer than my big toe. You should see them in a "peep toe."  Attractive, I know. And by monkey toes, I mean that they are functional, like a monkey's. I can pick up anything off the floor with them. I can color with them, although not that neatly, They were certainly helpful in my tree climbing days. Once, a dare, I picked up a pen and then wrote my name with them. Monkey Toes.

My attempts at shoe shopping been a life-long struggle, horrors of which are pretty well documented here .

I'm always dismayed as my favorite shoes begin to wear out, because that means that the hunt is now on to replace them. I've become pretty crafty when it comes to repairing my shoes, because they are so hard to replace, but there are times when Gorilla Glue and a Sharpie are no longer effective.

Such is the fate of my favorite pair of kitten-heeled, black, strappy sandals.

I've known this day was coming for quite some time, several months in fact,  but have been unsuccessful in replacing them.  I thought about even stealing a clever idea from another blogger, Lifestyles of the Thrifty and Shameless, and paint some  but I'm afraid of staining my feet (a horrific bridesmaid story for another post).

After glueing my shoes back together, yet again, I decided to try again yesterday in a different area of town to see if I'd have better luck.

 I tried out Belk's at The Summit. This was actually the only place I went because after I left, I was so discouraged, I left.  I really thought there'd be more shoe shopping at The Summit, but after driving around for about 45 minutes, I guess I was wrong.

After wandering through their shoe section for nearly an hour, a sales associate came to my rescue and asked if she could help me. I pointed to my feet, explained that I needed another pair of shoes, pretty much like the ones I had on my feet....kitten heel, kinda strappy but not too much. She looked down and smiled, nodding along as I spoke. Then I said those dreaded words, "I need an 11."

The smile quickly faded. I've seen that expression before. "Yeah, I know" I quickly added, knowing that she had just agreed to climb the Everest of shoe sales. "Let me see what we have upstairs."

While she went "upstairs" to find my humongous shoes, for my gargantuan feet with my monkey toes, I wandered around some more in the store. It was taking a long time. I had begun to think that she and her coworkers were somewhere deep in the bowels of the store, watching me on the security feed and laughing at me.

It was not much longer after that, that she emerged from the back, panting and sweaty and carrying an armful of shoe boxes. Seven  to be exact. I imagine that where ever they keep the 11's they are a long way from the front, oh, and she did say, upstairs.

"Okay, this is every, black sandal in an 11 that we have in the place. I will hold them up and you just say 'yes' or 'no'....Okay?"

Apparently she already knew I would not be happy and knew this wasn't going to take up any more of her time.

All of them were too casual, though I did like the wedges. But not $95 dollars worth.

Defeated, I left the mall, and drove  home.

Darling Hubby looked up from the game that he is constantly playing on his phone. "I thought you were buying shoes" he said. "I thought I was too" I responded "but my feet made other plans."

I went to bed early, depressed and discouraged and contemplating how hard it would be to walk without my toes.

~En-JOY

What I Wore Wednesday, July 11th

My first "What I Wore Wednesday" outfit

White Pants, Chico's by way of the Alabama Thrift Store = $2
Black Tank, Walmart = $3.88
Black and White "Sweater", Charming Charlie = $14

This picture makes my head look dispropotionatly large but the outfit looks good!

Trade-offs man, trade-offs

~En-JOY!

Magic Mike: The Aftermath

I think that I can sum up "Magic Mike" in three words:

Oh
My
Goodness

I was truly speechless.

My day pretty much played out like this:

After several days of chatting back and forth with some girlfriends, we decided to meet at Pablo's at Lee Branch.

Of course, somewhere I got in my head we were meeting at Patton Creek, so I bought my first ticket online for there. Then I couldn't figure out how to change my location (because I later read that refunds were to be made in person) so I had to purchase another ticket for Lee Branch. Then after the longest day at the office to date, I  haul-boogedy over to Patton Creek to get my in-person refund.

After fighting 289 traffic,  I made it to Pablo's about 6:15. More than enough time for the 7:45 show.  I decided to go ahead and get my ticket before heading over to the restaurant, because there wasn't much of a line. I knew that would not be the case closer to show time, When I reached the window, I noticed that the 7:45 show was SOLD OUT. I've only  been to a sold out show twice before in my entire life. The opening night of "ET" and the opening night of "Lord of the Rings."

 I purchased my ticket and walked across to the restaurant,  The 102 degree heat had everyone inside and the joint was packed with ladies in groups of  6 to 10. It was not easy to find my friends. I've only seen them in the past few years exclusively on FB and , well, my eyesight isn't quite what it used to be, Lucky for me, their voices haven't changed and I soon identified my group.

Our harried waitress took our drink order, but we had difficulty ordering. She brought us a bean dip, that no one seemed to order. but I decided to take. It looked like no one was really being served, and it was a good thing I did take it, because we  never saw hier again.  Roughly 20 minutes after 7:00  we sought her out and paid our bills. She seemed really flustered, I don't usually tip bad service, but because of the extenuating circumstances, that I figured she couldn't help, I left her a $5 tip on my $9 bill.

When we made it back across the parking lot to the theater, the line waiting for tickets was backed up into the street. I was so glad that I had gone to pick up my tickets first! I could not imagine waiting in that heat!
When we made it to our seats, the last row with enough seats together was three rows from the top, dead center.

Before long the theater filled up and soon there wasn't a seat left open in the place. The room was electric with the excitement of 469 (yes, you read that right) ladies, all ready to have a great time. The dull roar of chatting women and as the lights dimmed, the roar grew.

As the opening scene is the "lawbreakers" scene from the trailer. It was good that I've seen it before, because I did not hear one bit of it, as the cheers of 469 women drowned out every other sound.

The next 110 minutes can only be described as "oh my goodness." It showed the nights and days in stark contrast. And there was a pretty decent storyline., There were more than a few places where I couldn't look directly at the screen, rather peeping through splayed fingers. The shouts of the women around me wer both liberating and exhilarating.

One of the final scenes, Matthew McConaughey danced, and to me, that was well worth the price of admission.

All and all, I was entertained, and that was the point. Though I may have to go see it again to hear the dialogue. =)

En-Joy!

Magic Mike: A Few Thoughts Before The Movie

Matthew McConaughey is, hands down, my favorite actor. And it's not just from his rugged good looks. (Though they don't hurt the situation)

I can honestly say that everything that he has been in, I've enjoyed watching. Comedy, Romance, Drama, Horror (yes....horror....remember  Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation?)

He hedged out John Cusack, who recently held the title as my Favorite Actor, largely because of his role as the antihero in many of the movies I grew up with.

 Those characters are the ones I would have like in school.  Cute, but  not in the way he would have known it. A little flawed, a little screwy, but loving and totally devoted. And funny. I've always loved a healthy sense of humor.

...........sorry........where was I???


Oh yeah, The "Magic Mike" opening.

Being billed as an OFFICIAL Girls Night Out event!  I have to admit, I'm understandably excited.
I went on line today and bought my ticket. I have at least one girlfriend to watch the show with me (go Steph!)

 I am a little nervous, because I have a tendency to be embarrased whenever there is a scene with scantily clad/less than scantily clad actor(s) on the screen. I guess that was my good,Christian, Southern girl upbringing.  But somehow I will muddle through.

I hope that there is a good storyline. Nothing is worse than a bad story line in a movie, and even a bullpen of buff bods can't save it.

I do know something about the business of "male entertainment" from a friend who was a Chippendale-style dancer in the late 80's. Most of the dancers are gay. The rest are married.
At the time he was neither, which must have been great for him.  Of course, you still have to be careful or you will wind up with something Ajax won't wash off.

So far, all the trailers are showing the dancing, so the plot remains to be seen. I'm hoping that there is more to it than what is shown. Don't you hate going to the movies only to find that all the good stuff was in the trailer and you have another 87 boring minutes to sit through.

But then again, they are mostly naked...

Happy Birthday To Me.....

Today is my forty-fifth birthday.

Wait...let me write that again....

TODAY IS MY FORTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY

I feel ancient.  No....I feel ancient and depressed.

Yes, I know that it is much better than the alternative, but that doesn't make it any better.

I can tell you that when I was a teenager, I didn't think that I'd make it to forty, much less forty-five.  Y2K  was supposed to be the end of the world, remember?  Well, we didn't call it that way back then, but whatever.

I was only 33 during Y2K so I was safe.

And now, I'm 45.

I had so much I wanted to accomplish by now:

I'd be ready to retire from my Nat-Geo job to focus on my writing career. That something else we didn't do...call National Geographic "Nat-Geo." but I thought I'd hip it up for you and any other Gen-Y'ers who happen to be reading this. At any rate, I'd be ready to retire from the job that in actuality, I never pursued.  I'm a big chicken. Things were tumultuous in the world at the time I was in college. Suddenly schleping all over the world on the razor's edge of danger no longer seemed appealing.

I'd be a Pulitzer prize winning journalist.
Or at least in the running.

I'd have published several novels.
I cant even start one.  Oh I have great ideas for novels, several of them. Getting them from my head down to paper is another story indeed. But who am I kidding. I can't even get people to read my blog.

I'd be obscenely weathy.
I'm just happy to get all the bills paid. Between Darling Hubby and the kids, that's a stretch. I'm First Natioal Bank of Joy.

I'd  have a great New York loft apartment.
I learned long ago they are far more expensive than the movies let on. I'd settle for paying off a house with a decent sized closet. Oh hell....let's just focus on paying off the house.

I'd be wildly famous and make all of my classmates jealous.
So much for that. I can name 10 classmates right now that are doing so much better than me that I'm jealous.

I'd be married to someone wildly famous and make all of my (female) classmates jealous.
But I'm not....not even close. Darling Hubby is merely younger than me.

Instead, here I am, looking back over a wasted life.

I let other squash my dreams. I let people (even those close to me) stomp all over my dreams. My grandmother, for example, never misses an opportunity to laugh at me or poke fun at me. She's always been critical of me. She tells me how special/beautiful/talented other people are, but has never once commented on how special/beautiful/ talented I was. She's one of the people who should be lifting me up. Her words have been an anchor all of my life. I've wasted a lifetime trying to make her proud of just one thing that I've done. Maybe it's that generation.  Who knows?

Fear cements your feet to the ground. Fear that you will try and fail, fear that you will not measure up, fear that you are worthless.

If I never teach my children another thing, it will be this: Dont give into fear. Push the envelope. Pursue your dream, regardless of what people will say about it. Drink in life all around you and hold your cup out for more.

NEVER GROW OLD

Confession Time: Being a Boudoir Belle

Recently, one of my Facebook (FB) friends changed her profile photo and I must say it's a stunning head and shoulders shot. Her make-up is flawless. Her hair is styled in some touseled, just- rolled- out -of- bed- in- a- soap- opera style. She has her arm thrown carelessly over her head and she's staring at the camera with a come-hither expression and the faintest hint of a smile. Only after thinking, "Wow what a great shot," did I realize that she's in her bra.

It's tasteful. It's beautiful. I'm pretty sure it was originally meant for her husband.

Yes, it's a "boudoir" glamor shot.

And I will never, ever,  be brave enough to take any.

I saw the booth for a local boudoir photographer at the last Southern Women's Show. I picked up a brochure and tucked it into my bag. I went back and asked questions, but several months later, I'm reluctant to call.

First of all, I approach photos with the idea that they are meant for all to see. Anything with an expensive sitting fee, in my mind, should result in several large portrait style photos, all sutable for framing. Me in my underwear is not sutable for framing, even in the 80's when I had, but did not know I had, a rockin' hot bod.

Secondly, I believe that my mother would die from embarassment, so horribly, that she would not be allowed burial in the family plot. Yes, I'm an adult, but disappointing my mother is still a very big deal to me. I was raised a proper, Southern lady, with thank you notes and the proper attire for a bridal tea and all that. A Southern mother would surely expire on the spot if her baby girl were to be photographed in her underwear. When I was going through my first divorce and my ex stole the car that I was driving, I had six undeveloped rolls of film. I was angry because they were of my daughter's birthday, and my brother's graduation from the police academy. I could not remember what the rest were of and the first thing my mother had asked was if there was anything "embarassing" ( i.e. "em-BARE-ASS-ing") on them. Thankfully, I did not

Thirdly, my daddy might see them. I know. I'm an adult and can pretty much do as I please. But I must be a really good girl down deep, because I just can't bear the thought.  That is why I did not, unlike a lot of my college  friends, pose for the Southern girls spread of a popular gentlemen's magazine 25 years ago, even though I really had the body for it.  I listened to everyone's argument for nearly 2 weeks, but the thought that my daddy would somehow come across it was first and foremost in my mind. I think that they wound up scrapping the shoot, but my conscience was clear just the same. BTW.... My dad is currently fascinated with FB, according to my step-mom. She said that he loves to read everything that we ( the children/grandchildren) post.

I am sure that Darling Hubby would appreciate them (no, scratch that, I know him too well: he would lust over them obsessively and I would probably never see him, or them, again), but that is not enough of a reason to do it.

I would love to be pampered and go through all the fuss to pose for them. I have some nice, matching underwear (not the white cotten granny-panties and sports bra I'm wearing now) that I can still get into. I even have one pair of thong underwear. They are as uncomfortable as all get-out, but I'm sure I could stand them for a photo shoot. I'm told I'm photogenic, so I'm sure they would turn out quite nicely. But I just can't get past the fact that it would be me, in my underwear, freckles and all.

I wonder what they can do with a pair of flannel shorts and a "Casual Day" tee-shirt.

~En-JOY

Another Month Slips By

Wow....where are my manners?!  I've nearly let another month slip by without posting!

I'm not sure if it's a matter of not having any time to blog or not having anything to say.

My brother is still under the care of my mother (bless their hearts = on both counts) and eagerly awaiting the day when he will be quasi-self-sufficient.  In the weeks that followed his release from the hospital, he has returned for surgery twice: once for an aneurysm in his hand (that could have killed him as quickly as if in his brain!) and to clear the scar tissue that began blocking his airway. It was at 75% when they decided to check it.

The Girls (aka his cats) seem to be adjusting to life at the vet's office. I go by at least once a week to love on them. Casey has gained nearly a pound, so the time seems to be beneficial to her. Probably because she's not fighting Shelby for her food.  Shelby(as in "big as a Shelby Mustang"), on the other hand, does not appear to have lost an ounce. The vet seems astonished by her voracious appetite.  I go by and let them love all over me and let them know it won't be much longer.  The Parents have taken Brother over a few times to see them also. He said that seem indifferent to his presence. Secretly I know they are thrilled to have him there.

I've been very busy at work, working all hours to cover for vacationing CSR's. Despite having one CSR resign, we elected to honor all vacations that had been scheduled prior to her departure. But when one has only so many pegs to fill all the holes, sometimes one must fill them up herself.

I'm frustrated by the sudden slate of expensive "problems" that have cropped up in the past few weeks.

Kit-Kat's accident, followed by some yahoo throwing a rock through her window
Darling Hubby going out to move the truck, only to discover that window busted as well
The dryer is dying
Darling Hubby's alternator going out.

And nothing has happened on the week that Darling Hubby gets paid. Oh yes, I understand that is not something he can control, but it is irratatingly coincidental.

On a happy note, D/H remembered our anniversary with this lovely bouquet! He really knows how to make me feel special when he wants to.

Kit-Kat has NAM coming up this weekend. If I can just get through that wallet-buster, we may be okay.

(to be continued)