Cinderella Wore Slippers

My blisters have blisters and my feet have left me to go on vacation in a place where walking, running or anything involving movement of any sort is strictly forbidden.

I for one don't blame them. Another three miles on the treadmill of terror this evening, and my dogs were done in, done for, and downright mad at the rest of me. And that was before I upped the speed and decided jogging was the true ticket for getting out of there with the most amount of miles and the least amount of time.

Personally, I'm beginning to think I've gone a little nutso on this newfound exercise regimen of mine. And honestly, if it weren’t for the momentum and my fear of losing it, I'd probably take a day off here and there to catch my breath, relax my feet, and give my body time to adjust to... Well, let's be honest with each other, all this movement.

One cannot go from being an avid, though I might add, very well adjusted couch potato to the bionic woman overnight. Although come to think of it, I wouldn't mind the cool sound effects. Talk about a conversation starter.

Anyhoo, as I use this opportunity to seg-way into the second portion of tonight's serving, I came to the stark realization upon returning home that my poor pup had finished off her puppy chow and my secret stash had already not so secretly been plundered.

Quite frankly, I was ready to say, "Nuh uh, no way, no how and no one is going to make me. Not when I am this close to my couch!" And then Lucy looked at me.

One cock of the head, one floppy bat eared smile and my resolve to not be resolved busted as if the Hoover Dam had sprung a leak. I did however make one concession to my outing. And though I'm afraid to admit it, and I readily admit to breaking more than one cardinal rule of what not to wear, there was no way, I was slipping my double boiled blistered feet back into a pair of sneakers.

At least not when my (hand me down from Brenda, but never worn) pink dearfoam slippers were readily available. And seriously, so what about the white cotton ball tassels?

KC and her BFF "R" from next door agreed with me - or at least humored me, I really haven't decided which, that with my jeans hiding the more slipper looking portion of my slipper, I almost looked as if I were sporting a pair of UGGS.

(UGGS? I know I've said this before, but seriously, the only time I've ever used the word ugg is when something is absolutely awful... And yet, these things are the Rolls Royce of boots. Or comparable. Or something. Feel free to have your own opinion about this rather than rely on mine which I know for a fact is biased against just about everything.)

And so off I went. In public. With two kids. A pink pooch. And an even pinker pair of slippers.

But pretty in pink? Probably not.

And this is where I apologize. For as much as I would love to go on, and on, and on, and natter on even more after that, I have no more energy to tell this tale. My couch with all it's glorious comfort is awaiting my arrival, and as much as I hate to say this, let alone type it, I've an early morning ahead of me thanks to yet another round of can't say no to Margeurite at church.

Let's just say the good lord gave me two hands. And those two hands will be flipping pancakes at seven o'clock tomorrow morning.