A Day Out

I went out last weekend.  A self-described hermit, it takes some prompting to get me through the front door for more than just dog-walking.  But when my friend called to invite me to a spur-of-the-moment get-together at a neighbor’s, I said sure, love to.  Lest you think I was lying through my teeth, I actually meant it, which was a pleasant surprise in itself.  There’s still hope.

It started pouring as I was dressing, but I forced myself to continue, knowing it would stop just as suddenly as it began, which it did.

As per a previous post, I’d been slowly breaking in my boots during BC’s morning walks (too early for anyone to see me stumble around).  Since the festivities were further up the hill, I imagined traversing rocky, muddy roads and walkways, so boots were the safest footwear.

And wouldn’t you know?  No sooner did I walk through the door that one of the men said,

“Nice boots.  And I’m from Texas, so I know.”  Who would dispute the second part?

What a grin on my face.  Totally justified my expenditure.  Suddenly, everyone’s attention was focused on my feet, so I pulled up my blue jeans to show off the stitching, while telling my jukebox-story.

“Ooohhh…but tuck your jeans inside!  That’s the way we wear 'em (here).”  Now I’ve definitely got it in my head to keep an eye out for a pair of kid’s boots to practice decorating.