We hit 84 degrees here yesterday. I played a little catch in the backyard with my son, then took pitching lessons from him. He taught me the wind-up: pull my arms and elbows in, lift my left leg, reach back with my right arm, and fire the ball over to the net we've set up against our garage. He didn't even tell me about the correct grip. No need now--my pitching mechanics need serious work. He's a good teacher but my balls went flying over the top of the garage. I even hit the neighbor's garbage can in the back alley, knocking it over like a lone pin on the bowling alley. What is the word you yell when you've got an errant pitch flying over the garage? Not "Fore!" but "Holy crap, watch out!" It's funny when I pitch or throw so wildly off-target that even the guys behind me wrap their hands over their heads.
It's fun to be outside with the kid, but what I really want to do is buy new shoes. I live in a house with two males now and if I tell them what I really want is new spring shoes they just look at me like I'm trying out a new Bulgarian phrase on them. Huh? New shoes?
You mean baseball spikes? Golf shoes? Those Teva runners we can use up at the lake?
No, no, no, I mean new shoes from Nordstrom's, to go with the new linen skirt I plan to buy and the pink retro tee-shirt I picked up Sunday.
These boring loafers are what I've been wearing with my five winter outfits, all grounded in black--my black wool A-line skirt, my black knit fluted skirt, my black velvet pants, and my black corduroys.
Off with the black!
Sometimes I have to remind them I'm a girl. They know I could tell you why Silva should be sent to the bullpen and why Greg Oden is going to be the March Madness MVP. I've never pierced my ears and don't go for much flash--heck, my husband's underwear drawer is more colorful than mine. But it's spring and what's the point of living in the Four Seasons if you can't break out the toe polish and the espadrilles when the snow finally melts?
Which brings me to the shoe shopping. I've already got a few picked out.
Tonight I'm meeting my daughter at Manny's Tortas and I know I can have a lively chat about ballet flats, wedges, and toe-peekers. Someone asked me recently how my year was going and--it's going fine, thank you--but all I could say was how much I missed my daughter, that I thought things were going very well but sometimes it just hit me how much I missed her. I prepared for this, what experts call the sixth stage of parenting--the "departing" stage. But over the years we had grown so close. She and I used to judge her dresses by how much they twirled. We rooted for the Notre Dame women's basketball team in their championship season. We rented movies and ate our favorite salty-sweet combo of popcorn and Dove chocolates.
Anyway, I'll get my fix tonight of Manny's specialty sandwiches and my daughter's lovely presence. I miss her now just thinking about it!
10 comments:
Nice shoes....
but Oden is not going to be the MVP this year..
You're right. I should have written "should" for "would" and "MOP (Most Outstanding Player)" for "MVP." And if Ohio State doesn't win, Oden's chances are very slim, eh?
But really, back to the shoes . . . the espradrilles would be nice in peach, too, don't you think?
Hey, nice article. Do you really need new shoes? If so lets get em.
Mr. Ken, We ALWAYS need new shoes; and it's as much about the search as the buy. You know how you sort through your jigs while watching Al Lindner Saturday mornings? It's that kind of deal. . . .
Oh man, where were you two weekends ago. I called some people, trying to find somebody to go to DSW with me. That brown shiny pair is pretty.
Sistah! I hear you about the shoes, and how the boys just don't understand (although the photo of your 2 guys makes me want to hug them both). I got a bit of my fix buying toddler size 8 black Converse yesterday (daycare insisted on shoes with laces or velcro, so I had no choice). I'll have to take inventory of my warm-weather shoes before I can splurge, but your post may have created a monster. . . .
Hope girls' night was fun!
Two pss:
(1) The Bulgarian word for shoe is "обувка" (oh-BOOV-kah), not to be confused with alphabet, which is "азбука" (AHZ-boo-kah). Gah, I'm rusty. I had to look it up.
(2) I love how your shoe post has more comments than average.
Sass: Well, just holler next time you're in the mood. You can have your Frost happy hour and you can have your DSW happy hour--wow, we really can have it all.
Julie: The Bulgarian reference was just for you. Thanks for the oh-boov-kah tip. The only thing cuter than swishy dresses that twirl are little black Converses.
Someone else commented off-line about the homogenous underwear drawer and that has tipped off all kinds of thoughts on sister wisdom. Stay tuned!
And p.s., girls' night was fun! We talked about carrot cake, weight lifting, Mercedes Sosa, how the only three guys in the Women's Studies class attract all the girls, and how the young boy in our house might soon start dating. It was great!
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