Keep Your Weather Change

I love Fall.  Okay, I LOVED (emphasize the D) Fall.  These are the things I USED to love about Fall.

• (Man, I LOVE bullet points!) The leaves turning. I know, I have mysteriously turned into a 70 year old East Coast Marm. But man, the colors-it's like nature's own acid trip. I truly want to scoop up a bunch of the damned things, bring them home, and use them to decorate. But they rot, and smell, and lose their color. So forget it.
• All my Fall clothes-boots, wool socks, jeggings (DON'T mock me!), toasty wool pea coats. 
• Did I mention my boots?  I REALLY love boots.  MY boots.  They are awesome. They are so awesome, I find myself admiring boots online, only to realize I own them. Man, I have great taste.
• The blustery day with the wind blowing, leaves crunching underfoot, people (not me, mind you) raking, kids jumping into piles of leaves
• The smells-pumpkin spice, apples baking. Yummmm.
• The colors-Fall jewel tones look really amazing, especially on me!

I could go on.  However, I cannot handle the cold. Not at all. Mind you, I live in California. Northern, but still.   With Reynaud's Phenomenon, I lose circulation in extremities in the cold. (Other times, too but the cold makes it worse.) Now, when it happens, a couple other things occur. I feel the cold, yeah.  But sometimes the cold stings, which turns to an ache. And it takes quite some time to get the sting to stop. And sometimes, on those special, special days, the cold finger, toe or nose (each person with Reynaud's has a different area that is affected) turns yellowish-white.  now, seems more like just a visual issue. What it means, though, is that there is no blood circulating. fine for a few moments. However, as my Doctor told me, if it lasts longer than, say, 4 hours, I'm to hustle my little ass to the nearest ER. So they don't have to chop the problem area off.  bummer, right?

So, Fall is kind of starting to suck. Between the constant need for gloves, expensive wool socks, and trying to avoid outside, which I love(D), I'm getting kinda bummed.

Sorry 'bout my pissy mood.  I think I need some pie.

It's a Boot Time

My name is Aimee, and I am a boot addict.


Phew, that feels better.

It all started one year, when we went to San Francisco for my birthday.  We had decided to splurge on a hotel, and enjoy the city for the weekend, kids-free. We began by checking in, then it was off to the Westfield Mall on Market.  After a leisurely snack, along with margaritas (kid-free, maggies for lunch? Yes, please.). Then, a little retail therapy.  Westfield Mall has the most amazing Nordstrom. It's like Boot Mecca. I wanted a pair of boots for my birthday gift, so I perused. I browsed, contemplated, coveted.  I finally found a beautiful pair of brown boots with buckles. It was going to be my first pair of nice boots.
I was VERY excited, see why:

Now, I don't know if you have ever been to Nordstrom. If you have, you most certainly have spent some time in the shoe department. Which means, you may know their little tricks.  They work on commission, and have an ingenious way to boost sales: When they bring out the shoes you want, they also bring out a few other pairs they think you might like. Some people find it annoying---I always like to see what else they pick, to see if they judged me well. And, sometimes they come out with items they don't have on display.
This particular time, I was already indulging in nice boots-they weren't going to sucker me, and I told my salesperson as much.  The first pair-navy. HA!  I don't wear navy!  Second up, a mid-calf pair.  Meh.  I was feeling strong.  I was feeling confident.  I was feeling victorious.  Sadly, it was not to be. Number three was:

Now, these are Munro.  Had never heard of them til that moment.  Munro is an American company. They run a bit narrow. I gotta tell ya, they are amazingly comfortable.  Truly gorgeous. I melted just a little.
I looked at Sky King, asked what he thought. He smiled indulgently, and said some of my favorite words: Get them both.

My eyes lit up, and I wore the Munros out (they matched my outfit!). I wore them the rest of the day, walking up and down the hills of San Francisco. They held up, and I did as well. After 8 years of back pain and heel avoidance, the Munros had cured me!  Okay, a bit dramatic, but still. My back was not a mess of knots, I wasn't growling. The shoes did not make me hate the world, as less expensive shoes had done in the past. I had previously resigned myself to a life of "comfortable footwear" (Read: old lady shoes). Now, I knew there was hope for my feet.

The kicker-so to speak-was that, while I was not a dress size I wanted to spend tons of money on (denial is strong in me, and buying a size 14 dress anywhere other than Ross for $19.99 hurt my heart), my feet had been pretty much the same size since high school. Cha-ching!

I had sealed the fate of my future shoe purchases, a day that would live in infamy for my husband.

He had released the Beast.

Mwah-ah-ahhhhhhhh.