Footsie

I'm in a funk today. Funk funk funk. I am house bound with two little children who are locked in Leila's room playing Gabriella and Troy, which I think has something to do with High School Musical, which Leila has never seen. Actually, I just poked my head in there, and L is wearing her wolf costume from Halloween. So, what, she's Troy? All I know is, they're quiet, and they're not doing drugs.

I'm going out to a fancy dinner tonight for my friend's birthday. I don't have anything to wear, so I wearing that dress I go for my brother-in-law's wedding last summer. Its fancy and comfortable, but I'll have to wear high heels. I often lament the fact that I have impossible feet, and can't wear cute shoes. They're long and skinny (the only part of me that is) and they're kind of two different sizes (both huge) and I have the hardest time finding shoes. Feet have some fundamental design flaws. There's all these little bones in them, and not a lot of room for muscles, and they work harder than any other appendage. Today, I scrubbed them with a foot scrubber thing, and slathered them in thick foot lotion and put socks on. Which reminds me, I'd better take the socks off so I don't have sock indentations on my ankles when I put my fancy shoes on. I am not afraid to walk bare foot on the sidewalk, put the shoes back on when we enter the restaurant, and take them back off when I'm seated at the table. They're really pretty shoes.

So, I'm in a funk, and now I'm depressed about my feet.