It's been raining -- and raining hard -- since Friday night. I am not in any way minimizing the horrors those on the Gulf Coast are suffering, but here it is mid-September, and Chicagoland is already setting records for monthly rainfall. Homeowners along the Chicago River have been evacuated, and that isn't standard practice. I'm in a fourth-floor condo, not a house with a basement, so I'm not as adversely affected as some. But I'm a little blue and feel almost trapped indoors.
It's times like these that I love my Crocs. To borrow from one of my favorite Marcia Ball songs, these shoes are "the right tools for the job." My far prettier denim/cork sandals are STILL soaked through from a run to my favorite coffee shop yesterday brunch. My Crocs? They then took me around town to my other errands, and are dry, comfortable and ready to go out into the rain again today.
I'm embarrassed by their looks, but I when I need them, I shamelessly turn to them. It's my fabulously dysfunctional rainy-day relationship.
These are the thoughts and observations of me — a woman of a certain age. (Oh, my, God, I'm 65!) I'm single. I'm successful enough (independent, self supporting). I live just outside Chicago, the best city in the world. I'm an aunt and a friend. I feel that voices like mine are rather underrepresented online or in print. So here I am. If my musings resonate with you, please visit my blog again sometime.
It’s funny. My friends LOVE Crocs but I can’t get them to FIT my foot. They’re either the right length and too wide, or the right width and too short … so I wear Keens (also water shoes) that fit my foot just right ;--)
ReplyDeleteHugs and blessings,
It seemed that everywhere I looked today-someone was wearing a pair of crocs.
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