Tag Archives: Shoes

In these shoes

Just to set the scene: This morning I’m coming to you in pajamas and high heels.

I’m told this is important preparation for one of life’s biggies. Wear the heels around the house so they don’t shred your tootsies when it counts: when you’re Motherofthegroom, standing for hours, with the weight of the world—and your body, your soul, your heavy emotions—held atop scantly more than a match stick, four inches high and an eighth of an inch around.

The Boy is getting married in a week. You remember when he graduated from college four years ago. In addition to getting a degree there, he found a mate for life. Next Saturday, they’re making it official at a small ceremony near their home in North Carolina.

They (whoever they are) say that Motherofthegroom has three jobs: smile, keep her mouth shut and wear beige. The bride and groom, having tended to nearly all preparations themselves, have made my job a piece of cake. Admittedly, Fatherofthegroom and I made a wave or two when we wanted to invite the universe, but the young people were set on keeping it intimate. And so it shall be.

As these stilettos—beige, by the way—endure their breaking in, they spur contemplation.

In these shoes, I’ll stand and watch The Boy take another big step.

In these shoes, I’ll become a mother-in-law, hopefully the best one this dear, beautiful bride deserves.

In these shoes, I’ll vow silently to cut the titanium apron strings and hope for the courage and guidance the severing demands.

In these shoes, I’ll pray silently for grandchildren and for the inspiration to be the best Nanny in generations.

In these shoes, I’ll thank God for my own marriage, for the best son in the world and the choice he made in a wife, for family members overcoming illness and disability to be there and for a whole new family to love, honor and annoy.

In these shoes, I’ll hand Fatherofthegroom Kleenex. Lots of Kleenex.

In these shoes, I’ll think of all those, alive and not, who aren’t there for the occasion but who should know how special they are to us. I’ll take pictures. Lots of pictures.

Okay, shoes. Let’s do this.


Filed under Beauty and Fashion, Family and Friends

Overnight sensation

Just recently, I sulked when a snobby saleswoman snubbed my style as shabby chic.

I’ve decided I could go two ways with that. I could bristle and point to evidence that my sought-after slipcovers are plenty trendy. Or, I could roll with it and play the part I was assigned.

Maybe shabby suits my economic reality, and just maybe there’s a way to be shabby chicly. But how?

Just as I was trying on this new persona in my mind, I got a tweet from one of my sources for what’s hot. At my age and without a young person at home any longer, I need help in boosting my trend awareness. Twitter to the rescue, once again.

Voilà the latest in footwear for the economically aware, environmentally sensitive, deadline-conscious shoe fanatic.  Goodbye Vanelli pumps; hello Shipping Package Kicks, new from Civic Duty Shoes.

Why so crinkly, you ask? These babies are made of dependably durable FedEx envelopes, and styled like old-school Chuck Taylors.

If shabby and chic don’t ring your bell, consider this. They’ll get you where you need to be by 10:00 a.m. tomorrow.


Filed under Beauty and Fashion, Technology and Social Media

Bedtime reading

We haven’t reminisced in a couple of weeks. What say we remember the books we enjoyed long ago, either as children or as parents to our children, nieces or nephews?

The best children’s books range from inane and singsong-y to eloquently poetic, from plain and shallow mush to profound allegory. I believe they all can produce lasting childhood memories.

I confess, I never did get the ever-popular Goodnight Moon. Oh, we had it—two copies—but I just didn’t get it. Still don’t. I’ve got nothing against Margaret Wise Brown, but The Runaway Bunny was more up my alley. I loved the images of the mother bunny convincing her baby that he’d never get away from her. When the baby bunny decided that running away was futile (because he had a stalker for a Mom, perhaps?), the book ended with the mother Bunny simply saying, “Have a carrot.”

My mother read to me a lot. One book I fondly remember being read to me was Dr. Seuss’s Sleep Book. The words are typical Seuss – rhythmic and rhyming and clever enough, I suppose, which is fine because his illustrations stand on their own. He could draw a yawn, droopy eyelid or a happy head on a fluffy pillow so vividly that young readers such as I could barely stay awake to the end. I had forgotten how many of the illustrations I had remembered until I read the Sleep Book to my son. Even then I would nod off. In fact, I think I’ll move the copy I just dug up from the basement to my nightstand. You might want to do the same. Buy it if you have to; it’s better than Ambien.

Other children’s books I enjoyed reading to my son were Bill Martin, Jr.’s and Eric Carle’s Polar Bear, Polar Bear, What Do You Hear? (I hear a hippopotamus snorting in my ear) and Bears in the Night by Stan and Jan Berenstain. Do you know it? It’s not only extremely suspenseful but full of prepositions:  Under the bridge, Around the lake, Between the rocks, Through the woods, Out of the window, Down the tree, Over the wall, Under the bridge, Around the lake, Between the rocks, Through the woods, Up Spook Hill! Whoooo!

Not surprisingly, my son and I, both shoe freaks, wore out our copy of Shoes by Elizabeth Winthrop. He called it “Shoes by Elizabeth Winthrop.”

My son had more children’s books than any child I know. While he bought two Shel Silversteins with his own money, his favorite was still Go, Dog, Go! by P.D. Eastman. Do you like my hat? I do not like that hat. Good bye. Good bye. If ever you thought children’s books could be appreciated at face value and not overanalyzed for hidden meanings, think again. Go to a website called Goodreads, scroll down to Community Reviews and see the existential side of Go, Dog, Go!

I’ll close with a ditty from another favorite, Ride a Purple Pelican by Jack Prelutsky, whose poetry is unparalleled, at least on the bookcase in our basement.

One day in Oklahoma on a dusty country road

I heard a handsome ermine serenade a rosy toad,

I saw a hungry rabbit munch on lettuce  à la mode

One day in Oklahoma on a dusty country road.

I could go on and on but why don’t you join me? Favorite books? Favorite passages? Favorite memories of reading as a child? Was there one book you didn’t care for but your child always wanted to read?


Filed under Family and Friends, Reading