Last Thursday, my Mom, two sisters and I tried our darndest to catch a flight to Denver.  We all had reservations, our boarding passes were in hand, there was just no plane to board.  I hate flying.  It's fast and convenient and these days it's cheaper than trying to drive to Denver, but it's so annoying!  Our plane never showed up but the airline was kind enough to lend us a different craft and we finally left the ground two and a half hours late, which is certainly no big deal in the grand scheme of things.  IT's just that had I spent the 150 minutes driving, at least I wouldn't feel like I was wasting time.  When we finally arrived in Denver, I consoled myself with the realization that had I left home at the same time to drive to Denver, I would only just have crossed the border into Nebraska.

No one who has ever driven across Nebraska can stay mad at the airline for long.

Margy picked us up and after dropping off our luggage and grabbing a bite at her house we went off for massages.

I didn't get a massage.  I'm the most ticklish person on earth.  After 26 years of marriage, I still won't let Jay touch my back.  One second into a massage, the proprietors would be wondering how much it will cost to patch up the me-shaped hole in the ceiling, and where, if I was lucky, I would be re entering the atmosphere. 

Mom just thought the whole thing sounded icky and  a little bit gay, so she and I went for a walk while the other three sang the Emerald City Song. 

We all met later at DSW for some serious shoe shopping.

Normally, I don't wear shoes but the truth is I am almost as fascinated by shoes as the next girl. There was a time in my life when my shoe closet was packed to the gills with cute pumps, sling backs, boots etc.  When Jay and I started dating, he worked at an upscale ladies shoe store.  He got me all kinds of things at cost including a pair of cowboy boots that I still dream about.

But as time passed, two things happened.  In the last two and a half decades, my feet have gone from a reasonable 8.5 medium to a completely ridiculous 9.5 or 10 wide.  It's the wide that kills you.  Some styles I can't jam onto my feet even if I go up to an 11!  The other thing that happened is that for at least 15 years, shoe styles were ugly.  Too ugly to think about.  When you have paddles for feet, the last thing you want is anything 'chunky'.  Also, due to work and personality, I wear shoes almost never, so my feet have grown used to breathing the fresh air.  I get claustrophobic if I wear anything on my feet for any length of time.

Really.  The hotter my feet get, the colder I sweat.

But this year, pretty shoes are back!!  And at DSW they had lots and lots of sizes!!

There were miles and miles of elegant, pretty, fun, stiletto healed, sling backed, open toed, patten leather shoes in a rainbow of colors with toes decorated in bows, crystals, beads and jewels!  It almost made me wish I had an opportunity to wear shoes more often than twice a decade!

But I don't.

At the moment I own three pairs of lovely, dressy shoes.  One pair I have only worn twice.  Another pair I have owned for over a year and have not yet worn.  It's a lifestyle thing.

So, I tried on many, many pairs of gorgeous shoes, including one pair of gold stilettos that were on sale for under $20 that if I could've thought of a single instance in which I could've worn them, I'd have bought.  But all I could think of was the pair of black, slim heeled, sequined sandals back in my closet at home that had yet to see the light of day.  I couldn't do it.

Everyone else bought shoes.  Margy bought two pair.

Then we went back to her house, where we played dress up.

Saturday night, Margy's parish was putting on their big gala fund raiser and Marg had bought us all tickets.

She sent  an email a week ago telling us to bring our fancy duds, 'cause Sundancer is a big do.

Katie didn't get that email.

Mom, MJ and I all packed our party duds but Kate had nothing so we had a blast rummaging through Margy's closet trying on clothes.  It's funny, my sisters and I all look alike but none of us are even vaguely the same size.  Margy and I used to be pretty close but that was before my life's philosophy became "have seconds, the terrorists are coming!"  Due to chronic heart burn and the metabolism of a shrew (I said metabolism not personality) Katie is roughly the size of a pencil.  And not your standard #2 pencil, either.  A #0 pencil.  Then there's MJ, whom God, evidently realizing what he'd forgotten to give to the rest of us, made up for it by blessing her with the accumulated bosom meant for all four of us.  Mary Jeanne can wear anything.  She kept saying "But this is too tight across (fill in the blank)!" and we kept answering "No one will notice."

So Katie tried on all of Margy's formal wear, of which she has a ton because she and Jeff have that sort of social life, Mary Jeanne tried on everything she liked better than her own clothes and I tried on lots of hats and makeup.  And one totally cool band leader halter top that I meant to steal and take home but forgot.  Damn.  It's not like Margy was ever gonna wear it, it's way too big for her.  Damn again.

When Katie had enraged us all by uttering the words "This is too big!!" once too often, we got into our jammies and scandalized Mom by making her watch Sex and the City.

Mom wasn't scandalized.  My sisters are all too young, but I remember the way Mom and  her own mother used to talk.  I was routinely scandalized by those two...

Nana would love Sex and the City.