Walking in Heels

I can’t help but say heels are an enormous contradiction.

Last night a few of my coworkers and I got together to celebrate New Years Eve since we wouldn’t be able to do so tonight.  We made reservations at a classy nearby restaurant, table for 35 please!  It was a brilliant excuse to get dressed up in something other than that bowtie.

For the girls? An excuse to buy new heels.

I’m guilty.  I bought a fabulous pair of 4 inch tiger striped heels. They are sexy, and I revolved the rest of my outfit around them.

By the time we sat down for dinner I had blisters the size of a nickel.

All of the girls crammed into tiny, over-packed cars to avoid the two block walk to the after party and our beloved heels were off and safely in a corner for the rest of the evening.

So why do we get so excited to wear these shoes? I mean, we get really, really excited.

It’s a struggle to walk and the possibility of toppling over is great (especially after a couple cocktails), we get blisters that ruin our feet for weeks, and we eventually cast them off and avoid making eye contact.

And then the next opportunity we have to wear them we get all fired up again.  Hurray! A new pair of heels! What?

I am a part of this quirky scheme, but that doesn’t mean I’m not baffled by it. 

I get that it makes our legs look killer and lengthens us up a bit, so I can understand that as fans of fashion we’d be willing to endure some pain, but that doesn’t explain our excitement for the discomfort we know comes as part of the package.

Bizarre.

I’m pretty positive I’ll wear them tonight.

See ya, 2012!

Cheers!

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walking in suburban land

It’s slightly unhinging to go on a simple, short walk with your dog and realize you have been looking down and sitting inside for quite some time now.

I like to blame it on Grandville for being so suburban and modest, so flat and unobtrusive. Why would we want to stroll along paved sidewalks past house after look alike house just to move our lazy bones? No, we’ll stay inside and relax, it’s winter, after all.

If it’s not going to immediately take my breath away, why should I bother at all?

What a quick and nonchalant excuse, and it works every time.  The other side of my brain never argues.

Today, however, it argued.  Snow was falling so softly to the ground with no wind to traumatize it.  Cooper looked at me as if today would be the day we would have an adventure.

This is what happens after living in a mountain town where you step outside to see mountains, find trails, spot wildlife.  You eventually move back to suburbia, where you grew up, and nothing around you measures against the scenery of out west.

Adventure it wasn’t, but our walk was airy and fun, and our carefree, fresh moods matched each other’s perfectly.

I didn’t step out and feel overwhelmed with giant hills looming above and all around me.  I constantly heard the rush of cars, and there were no trails to escape the neighborhoods through which I wandered.

There was something small, though, that made a large impact. The sun was out and made the snow glitter, and put shadows in all the perfect places.  I felt peaceful, and that’s saying something.

I even broke ordinance #216 and let my canine run, leash free, around the open grounds that belong to my alma mater. He was in doggy heaven and I, in turn, couldn’t help but feel the sweet innocence of his happiness.

Now I have to go to the mall, and the cuteness of my tired out pup makes me wish to stay here with him and maybe just write all day long.

I’m so glad he still likes me after I accidentally cut off his toenail and he bled profusely for hours.  Woops!

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Happy New Years Eve, eve, eve

Cheers!