Old House Shoes

Howdy, all!  I know. I know.  It's been rather a stretch between my inaugural post and this one; however, in my defense, I was occupied taking care of business when it came to finishing up spring term.  That is in the bag, though, and that brings me to another reason I've been tardy in connecting with you, O Reader, via text.  Summer time.

When one thinks of summer, they normally think of hot, lazy days which are inevitably followed by long, warm evenings that seemingly stretch on forever before melting into star specked nights whose skies host fireflies and cricket songs.  I thought this, too. . .until I remembered I'm a mom, and I still have stuff to write during the break!  I plan to thoroughly enjoy the above described seasonal ideal at every single opportunity, but I'm also going to have to balance my writing demands with my son's first T-ball season, his swimming lessons, cleaning/reorganizing his room (*ahem* and mine) as well as other family demands that are coming down the pike.  But none of this has anything to do with the title for this post.  Time to refocus.

My house shoes. My love.

In the week or so since I finished the spring term, we've had some lovely springtime, Tornado Alley-esque weather, and by that I mean, we've gotten to glue our eyes to the TV to see when exactly we should take cover from the rotation developing in the sky.  So fun! *Please note sarcasm*  Lots of rain and some unseasonably cooler temperatures have come along with this current weather pattern, so though it is April, I've had the opportunity and beloved necessity of slipping my perpetually chilly feet into my favorite house shoes (and also possibly walking around the house in my blue plaid, fleece robe, though if pressed, I'll deny this.  You have no proof!) Seriously, these house shoes are close to THE BEST thing in the history of things.  If I had to choose between coffee, indoor plumbing, heated leather car seats, and these shoes, I might just dissolve into a crying, teeth gnashing mess.  All hyperbole aside, they're awesome, folks.

And what are these wonderful shoes, you might ask?  They're the Wicked Good Moccasins from L. L. Bean, man.  I love 'em.  The way they make my feet feel when I slip into them turns me into a Jewish mother from the SNL skit Coffee Talk with Linda Richman.  "These shoes are like buttah!  I'm a little verklempt!  Talk amongst yourselves.  Let me give you a topic:  These shoes are neither wicked nor good.  They're GREAT! Discuss. . . ."

Mike Meyers = Comic Genius.  The End.

Sorry, I was beginning to drift off to listen to some Streisand on YouTube, but I'm back.

As I was saying, these house shoes are so comfortable, so warm, so practical, so Me.  So you can imagine my surprise when today I opened up my writing folder on my Mac and started sorting back through my novel material, reorienting myself after my few weeks of absence with my outline of scenes and what needs to be worked on, and I got that same buttah feeling.  Taking a small step back into my little creative world was akin to slipping my mind into a metaphorical pair of Wicked Goods.  It was delicious.  I was home. Everyone has that, I suppose, or at least they should.  What's your old house shoe space, Reader?  Let me know in the comments, but let's keep it PG, y'all.  Normally, I wouldn't think of needing to say that, but during a recent experience with helping teach a college writing course, I discovered that it's better to set some parameters than trust people will not draw inappropriate pictures of the female body as part of a class activity.  Don't ask.  Long story.  I gaped in shock and blushed five shades of crimson, I assure you.

Post three is already in the works, so I do not see the space between this post and the next being nearly as long as that between this one and the first.  Enjoy the rest of your weekend, and find some time to enjoy your own house shoe space, whatever it may be.