Sneakers. Flats. Sock feet.
Those are my usual foot attire. I’ve never calculated the miles I put on a pair of sneakers – several months as “good” plus more as primary for walks — before they hit the dumpster.
Unlike many of my fellow romance authors, I’m not a “shoe” person. If you tracked my shoe buying habits you’d find sneakers punctuated by hiking boots (for mission trip construction site), and snow boots (self-explanatory). Black dress flats and white flat sandals come out of the closet for a day here and there. The shoes, however, are old enough for their receipts to have been handwritten by a quill pen.
An assessment of the calendar early this month convinced me it was time to find “Ye Olde Fancy Dress” and check for fit and accessories before I pulled it on for an event. Dress fit. Needed new necklace to freshen. 🙂 No problem. Shoes didn’t work at all – didn’t work for five minutes in house – would never make a full evening. 🙁
An hour in the mall resulted in a success story. As long as you ignore the charges on the credit card.
