When we get ready to go to church during a retreat like this weekend, we all tend to dress the nicest we can. Partially, it feels like we are being more reverent by looking nice and making an effort, but mostly we just want to show off how pretty we are. At least, that's my take on things. It may not be the best reason, but it's a reason. And at least (most days) I take the time to shower.
This weekend was no exception. I brought my favourite pair of shoes to wear on Easter Sunday. They are 4 1/2 inch black and white polka-dot heels. They have red soles and heel stems and they are the most uncomfortable things known to man kind. They are pure punishment from some shoe designer who hates all women but wants them to look cute while they writhe in agony. And they do. I may end up with bunions and crumpled feet and only be able to wear specialty shoes when I am old, but for now? I look awesome.
Grandma took note of my shoes when I returned after lunch. She mentioned how cute they were. I was surprised to hear it. She is so practical, I was sure she would disapprove of them just out of principle. She said she liked them quite a bit, but didn't know how I wore them. I took them off (happily - it had been 3 hours) and went downstairs to let the dogs out. When I came back up, I found Grandma.
Hands gripping the door frame with all her might, she was propped precariously in my shoes. Ky had convinced her to give them a try. Grandma is just over 5 feet and has teeny feet. I am one step away from needing to order my shoes from specialty shops for drag queens. She was so cute. She looked like a little girl playing in her mother's shoes.