Woody & My IBF

In general, one must have an alternative to DuBarrys, Muck Shoes, and Wellies. We wear needlepoint slippers, preferably from Stubbs and Wootton. The Stubbs are nearly $400 a pair, and in the neighborhood we take pride in ignoring Christian Laboutins and platform shoes (did that in the 70's), and refrain fro paying a lot for anything. Besides, they would look so new. So, I resort to buying Stubbs on eBay. Yup, used shoes on eBay.

Stubbs has a website, but they sell different ones in the shops in Palm Beach and Southhampton. The ones from the shops are better.  The basic style does not change from year to year, one that mom would say was "classic" and could be worn forever, just like your Burberry trench (the one made before Burberry was Burberry).  Thus, the shoes on eBay are a great deal. You just have to make sure you look at the pictures of the soles.  Worn is okay, holes are not.  Oh, and if they have heel and toe taps, the owner took care of them, but more importantly had enough good breeding to know that you do that with your shoes.

One pattern is black with yellow bees.  That's how they're listed. Hello? Wasps. You know, WASPs. Duh. My blue and white ones are sorta the color of denim, and I wear them all the time with jeans. My niece is especially fond of the ones with the frogs on them. While we're no Carry Bradshaws out here, I really wanted a good shoe closet in the addition. I now have six perfect shelves, with 36 perfect pairs of Stubbs. My one good pair of heels are stuffed somewhere between the sock basket and the used shopping bags (just in case you might need a shopping bag). Priorities, people.

There are also velvet slippers, the same shape and cut as the needlepoint ones. These are embroidered.  I have a navy pair with a sun on one foot and the moon on the other.  I think I have more, including one with silver somethings (they kind of look like something that would be in a Dan Brown story line). It is unfortunate that a very popular pair has skulls and crossbones on them.  They looked good at the time, but when Ed Hardy and tattoos became popular...... bad idea. Lots on eBay now.

The velvet slippers are also made for men.  It takes a real man to wear velvet slippers in public, although they used to be the only thing one would wear with a dinner jacket at home. An aside: the young teenage hockey team here was pretty good one year.  One of the mothers put pink skate laces in a silver bowl in her foyer for the players. Tough men wear pink.  It was a team-building thing.

Most of the women's shoes are available in mules. These backless slippers are reminiscent of the way we wore all our shoes in college.  You know, for when you're too hungover or too lazy to actually put shoes on your feet.  You just step on the back, sort of folding the heel down, and shuffle along. Especially fetching with a ponytail and pajama bottoms, coffee optional.

You have to get over the idea of wearing used shoes, though.  Presumably, the people who buy these guys new are "nice" people (my mother's term for social superiority). My best friend had the perfect rationale.  Just pretend they're from your best friend in Palm Beach. Problem solved.

My imaginary boyfriend now acquainted with my imaginary girlfriend with the good shoes.

My best friend and I went to dinner in the one "good" restaurant in our town.  Since it is Saturday, one must wear an Hermes scarf with one's jeans, old cashmere, and down jacket.  Oh, and DuBarry's.  DuBarry boots are a lovely brown leather knee-high country boot from Ireland.  They sell them at the races.  The guy selling them is an incredibly sweet young man with ivory skin and a rose blush.  He stands in a dishpan of water in his boots, demonstrating their waterproof qualities.

I have had a tendency to drink too much lately.  The restaurant is a BYOB (although they finally got a liquor license), so you can bring better wine than you could afford on a wine list. I pulled this one from my dusty old rack and looked it up on the web.  $100!. I guess I wouldn't be embarrassed when they corked it. I also read that it was meant to be drunk young.  It was 2006, good until 2011.  I guess that's now.

We skipped the lettuce and had two desserts.  Why didn't we think of this before?  Ran into my lawyer (we all know each other in the neighborhood), and he cautioned that we should make sure not to miss our roughage. Roughage. We're in the era of fiber, so roughage seemed so nostalgic, the mystique of grapenuts or the canned prunes your grandmother ate.  I happened to like the prunes, even as a child.  Back when Dannon's came in a waxed paper cup, they had prune whip flavor.  Also prune danish.

At the restaurant, I was parked between two pickups, in front of two pickups, and across the aisle from two pickups. Some people in cities drive SUVs in case someday they might actually need four wheel drive.  In the country, we drive pickups and keep them somewhat clean in case we might actually need to drive them somewhere with paved roads. I only have one pair of heels because I cannot get to my truck on the gravel without scraping the heels up.

Luckily, I made it home in the snow.  My pickup is sort of mildly jacked up, pretty good for adverse conditions such as rising creeks and going across the cornfield across the street to watch the hunt (or if nothing so picturesque is available, the men take down deer-- thank god, they're eating my beets).  My township, though, doesn't plow like the rest of the civilized world does.  They say the tradition is to leave it for the horse-drawn sleighs.  Makes it tough for the postpeople (mail deliverers? I prefer postman, but mine is a girl).

Everyone knows it is always a mistake to text drunk (well almost always).  I swore I would hide my phone from myself.  I didn't.

There's something like a little extra tippling to get to the heart of matters of the heart.  My girlfriend and I decided that tonight's adult theme would be naughty sommelier, naked with a white towel on her arm, spilling the wine, and ready to be spanked.  Picked up the phone and texted to that effect.  And added In general I care but I don't care any more.  Where did that come from?  I picked up the phone and left a message that I needed closure.  I have not heard anything and do not expect to.  Remember, this is the child that moved out on his girlfriend one day while she was out.  No note, no nothing. The problem with young men is that, well, they're young men.

Then the urge came upon me to text what I know had been on my mind for so long. Why did you never touch me? I do wonder.  I probably will never know. But it suddenly came to me that I didn't want to be the whore in the bedroom without being the lady in the parlor. At least until I actually get to be the whore in person.

I am mourning my almost-real imaginary boyfriend.  The clock is ticking until I hit the road.  I want to go to the unclaimed baggage place in Alabama and score some used shoes.

I hereby promise to quit the diary posts that I didn't realize were so much teenage diary post-y. No more he called me, he didn't call me.  No more heartache (well, maybe a little).

From now on, we shall be festive.

I wanted to dance around the house to old Motown. So I did. I'm not very good. I used to be, so I'm not sure what happened. I figured I'd have a drink or two and see what happens. I think a little better, but them I have had a drink and maybe I only think I'm better.

 I have been reading too much.  The UPS man drops boxes and boxes on my doorstep. Jeff Bezos is sending me a thank you note with a large box of chocolates.

Now that I have an idea that I want to hit the deep south, I feel it necessary to hit all the "undiscovered" places covered by guide books.
They have GPS downloads.

I may take the river road, through Natchez and south.  I visualize myself hanging out with the hamlet's best black cook on a 55 -gallon drum.  If I'm not careful, I'll end up at ChiChi's.  That's the problem with overthinking.  I need Woody, and I need him now.

Here are some books that show promise:

Him:

Oh, imaginary boyfriend save me.