(Pictures included below.)
1) Since the writing of this review I have instituted a new rule. From here on out if I have to wear sandals, so does Mr. G. You know what they say, "What's good for the goose is good for the gander." Honk, honk.
2) Mr. G. owes Ozzie, the mad masticator of mayhem, a huge debt of gratitude. During his puppyhood, The Oz opted to chew only one pair of shoes and it just so happened to be the offending pair described below. An accident? Doubtful.
So here goes...
"You're not planning to wear those horrible elf boots" Mr. Grumpy says while giving me the hairiest hairy eyeball he can give and still stay in his lane.
"Yes. And they're not elf boots. They're closed-toed heels. It's supposed to be pouring tonight." I cross my arms, battening down the hatches; I can see I'm in for a tirade.
Mr. G: "I hate those shoes. You said you were bringing the sandals I got you for Christmas."
ME: "Oh, right. Well I wasn't going to wear those to dinner. I was just going to wear them in the room. Anyway, I forgot the sandals. I'm not wearing sandals in the rain. "
Mr. G: "I HATE those shoes."
ME: "Well, hopefully it won't ruin the night. You're a big boy."
Mr. G: Glowering silence.
ME: "What do you want to do, turn around and go back for the sandals?"
Mr. G: "You KNOW I hate those shoes. I can't believe you forgot the sandals!"
ME: "Well it is what it is. If you really can't stand the shoes we can probably get something else in Calistoga."
Mr. G: "We'd better be able to find something. God! I HATE elf boots!"
Clearly--the pressure is on.
We get to Lincoln Ave., the main street in Calistoga and park. We've been told there is one shoe store in town--Bella Tootsie, which we find and the shoes in the window look promising. Unfortunately it closed at 3:00, ten minutes before we show up.
Sensing the possibility of a major fail on my part from which Mr. G may suffer irreversible upset, I grasp at the possibility that the clothing store we're passing--Attitudes--may sell shoes. We go inside and (There MUST be a God.) there is a small wall space devoted to shoes. Mr. G looks the 12 or 15 styles over and declares there is only one acceptable pair --sandals, naturally. Unfortunately they only have them in a 6 or a 10. Thinking the 6 is likely too small (usually I'm a 6.5 or 7), it's still the closest to my size. So I try them on, willing my feet to think small. Lo and behold, a Cinderella moment occurs. They fit exactly with no room to spare and on the very last strap hole. Not only that, they're comfortable! Not only that, they're on sale! Not only that, I notice a pair of elf boots (which I AM permitted to wear when we're not dining out) and try them on and they fit! (Size 6 again: Born brand must run slightly big.) Not only that, they're on sale, too! So, Mr. G springs for the sandals and I spring for the elf boots. End result: two very satisfied customers and one evening disaster averted.
It is, of course, pouring down rain when we WALK the block and a half to dinner (SolBar) under a shared umbrella. My feet are soaked when we get there, but we sit next to the fire and my feet and sandals are dry in about 10 minutes. I do a cursory inventory. I am the only fool in the place wearing sandals. The upside? Mr. Grumpy is looking pretty happy.
Thanks to Attitudes! You saved the evening! I thank you from the bottom of my toes.
|The offending footware has been Ozzified and gone to the great shoe closet in the sky.|
|The new elf boots|
|The shoes that saved dinner--not exactly rainware.|