Hello, Reader. So, life has been a little odd lately. There are boxes everywhere. I am starting to see people for the last time. I hate that feeling. I'm struggling to make time to write (generally after midnight), so blogging has taken a backseat.
I promised you a post on paperback cleavage, but then I read an article about women in fiction and I got all fired up and had this huge post I wanted to write and, well, I just don't have the energy at the moment.
I will provide the cleavage post though, about which I have received NUMEROUS handwritten letters. ("Dear Jennifer, I enjoy your blog. Where is the aforementioned cleavage post?" or "Dear Jennifer, I can't sleep for anticipation about the cleavage post" and so on).
Please, no more letters.
Okay, I haven't actually gotten any letters.
I might. You don't know. I certainly don't.
Anyway, today I lined up all my shoes in preparation to pack them. So many pairs come with a specific memory. Isn't it funny how that happens? I'm sure that's true of a lot of clothes and jewelry, but it seems particularly poignant with shoes. You can slip the shoes on and walk through the memories, so to speak.
Here are some shoes that mean a lot to me:(Left to Right)The shoes I first wore on the night Curt proposed, the shoes I wore at our rehearsal dinner, my wedding shoes, shoes I bought during a bachelorette weekend for my friend B, and the shoes I bought for my twin sister's wedding (which I bought with my sister-in-law, so they carry two special memories).
And also, I had to share these sequined flats.They are not particularly comfortable, but oh how I love them. I remember when I bought them too: back in high school on a shopping trip with my mom (rare, that my sister wasn't there, making the memory extra special). I firmly believe that everyone should own a pair of sequined shoes.