Heels.

I have developed a new found love for shoes. All kinds of them - flats, heels, platforms, runners, boots, flip flops, the list goes on and on. Through my teen years, shoes were always too girly for me. I wore heals. I owned sexy boots. I had runners. I don't remember which were my favorites or which I wore most often unless you count the ones I wore to work. I wore that cute black pair so much I wore the heel out. To avoid going out shoe shopping, I took them to a shoemaker and had the heel rebuilt. They were comfortable. All in all, though, they just weren't important enough to me.

I now keep an eye on shoes. I look for ones that call me. Last fall's clearance sales had a pair that found me - a simple black sandal. That pair came home and sat in the closet all winter waiting to see the sun. Today was the first day that I had them out to wear. Really wear them rather than just slip them on to take out the garbage (yes, I sometimes wear heels to do that). I've learned a bit more about shoes after today.

My idea for these shoes was completely wrong. This one-time-great purchase is not for everyday wear. It is for special occasions only. The tip of the heel is slippery. Every step I take in them makes me wonder if they are going to hold for me to take another. Errand shopping, spontaneous retail therapy, running out to pick up groceries, a casual stroll with the kidlets are all tasks that will not entertain these shoes.