Yarn Over: Happy Feet, Sad Feet

I've been maintaining my goal of going to the gym three days every week, although last week I almost petered out due to a semi-legitimate excuse. You see, I was carrying something outside onto the front porch when the wind caught my screen door and slammed it shut. As the wind was so kindly slamming the door shut with great force, the bottom corner of the door caught my heel and scraped a nice large area of skin off.

I have calloused feet (extremely calloused. We're talking rhino-feet calloused.), but even my three inches of callouses couldn't protect my heel, and now it's quite painful. Nothing serious, nothing dangerous, just quite painful. Therefore, the idea of putting on my regular gym shoes sends squeals of pain up my spine just thinking about it.

That was my left foot.

That evening I was feeling ambitious, so I cleaned the bathroom while the kids were splashing around in the bathtub. Somehow in my enthusiasm, I must have knocked a small vial of a perfume sample onto the floor and not noticed it.

I did, however, notice it when the bottle shattered under my bare right foot. I am flat-footed, so there is no way I can walk on my feet without every inch of my sole making contact with the floor.

At least my aching right foot smells very nice.

On a happier note, I went shoe shopping at Wal-mart on Saturday and scored a nice collection of cheap shoes. Oh, I know, Wal-mart isn't the fashion icon I should aim for, but right now I like to set my goals at attainable heights.

Like wearing shoes so that my feet don't get banged up.

Tennis Shoes for the Pink Diva, Miss Banna-Boo. I couldn't quite capture the pinkness factor, but take my word for it, they're pink and sparkly. Perfect for her ego. Price? $1. Yes, $1.

Lovely, cushiony soft sandals for my aching feet. (Notice, no heel. I can't wear closed shoes right now without screaming. Of course, it could be my battered and neglected fashion sense screaming, too. It likes to be let out now and then, but I usually keep before-said fashion sense tightly locked in a closet. I don't want to intimidate anyone with my fashionality. Fashionableness. Whatever.) $5.

Peter has broken two sets of flip-flops and nearly broken his neck in the process, so Handyman demanded that I stop being so cheap and get the boy shoes that would stay on his feet (since shoes are easier to replace than necks, or so I've been told). Because I am an obedient wife, I went out and splurged $4 on these shoes. Peter loves them, and they stay on his feet where they belong. (Tennis shoes are out of the question for my little boy, because he has built-in radiator feet. I swear, the child would wear flip-flops in 3 feet of snow if I let him. He doesn't get it from me. I, on the other hand, lose circulation in my toes if the temperature dips below 85 degrees. I might look like the Dutch side of my genes, but my feet are definitely Hawaiian.)