Do you hear that, Nordstrom Shoe Guy? That is the sound of me prancing around Seattle in my adorable new pink suede ballet flats. Or wait, is it the sound of me skipping around town in my equally adorable new black mary-janes? Whatever it is, it's clearly not the clomping and trudging that you would have had me doing in those heinous velcro walking shoes.
Special thanks to your ghetto step-cousin Nordstrom Rack just down the street for helping a girl out.
Also Gentle Readers, the blog's taking a break for Yee Olde Medieval Wedding of Rena and Austin, so that the blogging wench can drink mead and chow down on turkey legs with some of her friends from -- meep -- JUNIOR HIGH. Fifteen years have passed and we don't seem much more suave, but damn we haves ourselves some good times. Full report when I get back, and no I am not promising to post photos, unless you offer me a giant cup of mead and then we can talk.
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