I have to tell you that I laughed out loud yesterday when I read your blog. First, you must be the only person that I know that still has Dr. Scholl’s sandals. I remember saving up all of my money to buy them when they were the rage back in the day, and once I put them on, I kept telling myself that they were really cool even though they gave me blisters and were the absolutely most uncomfortable shoes I had ever owned! I believe that they were a neutral khaki color (you know, so they would go with everything). And, of course, I wore them everywhere, cursing every step of the way! I’m sooooo very sorry that the puppy-dog chewed yours to smitherines. If I still had mine, I would give them to you, but judging from the #10 that I saw in the photo, you would have been able to get your big toe into it since mine were a size 6. The most important question is, how far did you punt the puppy?????
Yes, I have big feet.
Let's just clear the air on that right now.
As my brother-in-law Gary always says, "You need a platform to stand on."
Does having big feet make it more difficult to knit socks?
No, it just takes more yarn and more time.
And to answer Jean's question, here is my funny story that I wasn't going to blog about, but I have decided to anyway:
what could I do?
I'm so totally bummed
but here's the funny story I didn't put on my blog
although I should
a month ago I was heading into the Union for our Friday knitting group meeting
I was sashaying down the hall, holding my box of yarn and needles, feeling cool and wearing my Dr. Scholl's
it was a SOAR session day, and the Union was filled with professors, future students, and tour groups
hustle and bustle to the max
so as I walk past a tour group I'm swinging my butt and thinking about just how cool I really am
when all of a sudden
I walk off the side of my Dr. Scholl
and what I mean is, I took a step and instead of keeping my foot on the shoe my foot went over the side
I felt myself flying forward ready to land face down on the carpet
my yarn box landed with a loud thwack and clang (damn those steel needles)
and then people come rushing over
"are you okay?"
"are you okay?"
and there was one who looked straight into my eyes and asked,
"are you okay?"
I pushed myself up off the floor and with my knee throbbing I smiled the fakest Miss America smile I could ever plaster on my face and said through gritted teeth, "Yes, I'm fine"
mustering whatever dignity I had left, I stood and hid my limp as best I could and made my way painfully down the stairs
above me I heard the tour guide say to her group as they passed (and this is the truth): "I'm sure she's fine, just embarrassed"
you think?
so, when you ask me if I beat the dog for ruining my bargain Dr. Scholl's (the pair which NEVER gave me blisters), I can honestly tell you....
I think I have just grown too old to wear them
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