A Cry for Help

I survived the retreat this weekend.

Note to self: Please reconsider a two night retreat with 45 high school students while seven months pregnant.

It was a good retreat. Everything went pretty smoothly. There was some sass being thrown around by some of the kids, but really, they are high school students. I expect some of that. Since I left today I have been doing a lot of nothing. Took a nap. Sat on the couch. Watched crappy Sunday afternoon tv. Painted my toes. I did go look for a pair of sandals.


I am in love with expensive shoes. Many of you right now are thinking to yourselves, “Really? Tia? Because she does NOT seem like an expensive shoe kind of girl.” True. All true. I am not talking about Jimmy Choo’s or something like that. I can barely walk a straight line, let alone try to hobble along in stiletto’s. I am talking about a more “working class” expensive shoe. A more orthopedic expensive shoe. Perhaps, a more homely expensive shoe.

They are Dansko’s and I love them. But they are a dastardly company. I will give you their sales plan. It is

genius and evil. It goes like this. “Oh, look at us, we’re Danish and we make shoes by hand. They are so comfortable that they will transform your feet into shoe snobs. You will wear our shoes and your feet will like it. In fact, they will like it so much that when you wear your old shoes for a day it will actually inflict pain. You will pay $100+ for our grandmotherly shoes because your feet can’t handle anything else. And you will buy more than one pair. Black. Brown. Clogs. Sandals. We’ve got you now. Mwahahahahahahaha…”

Bastards. Maybe I don’t even love these shoes. I am just addicted.

Well… in that case, give me another hit.


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