The Agony of 'De Feet', or, Why am I dreaming of shoes?

What is it about shoes? I have decided that our "shoe obsession" comes down to the fact that, unlike our bellies, backsides or thighs, our feet are the one part of our bodies that we cannot control or change. So, we are released from agonising or worrying about them. In other words, you just accept that your feet are your feet. 

That's not to say that our feet are exempt from being a source of frustration from time to time, of course they can be. But, at the end of the day, no matter how much you salivate over a beautiful pair of Manolo Size 38's, if your foot is a size 40 or 35, tough luck.

No amount of dieting, exercise or bribery is going to significantly alter your shoe size. There may be a few tears in the offing, but we do move on from such episodes with relative and incredible ease. 

We are able in a most effable way to make peace with our feet and our shoe size. We are even able to reconcile ourselves to our own individual, pedial limitations (e.g., inability to wear nose-bleed high heels for extended periods of time, and etc.), granting our feet a level of clemency that would be unimaginable to our more fleshy and recalcitrant limbs and bodily parts.   

"Just wanted to drop you line to say hello. No need to reply, just get in touch after your festivities this summer, when all the wedding stuff isn't eating your brain."        - Message from a high school chum who recently found me on Facebook

The current wedding dilemma "eating my brain" is shoes, glorious shoes. Bridal shoes are serious business. And, apparently, they are now the ultimate "statement" accessory (Thank you, Carrie Bradshaw), and as one friend advised me: "The shoes you choose are the definitive expression of your bridal personality." 

Bridal personality?! Oy vey. What a load of old rubbish, I thought when I heard that. But, now, I am obsessed with the idea. What is my "Bridal Personality"? And, how can one wee pair of shoes convey all that is my personality? 

Digging a bit deeper into this, the true "dilemma" is how in this one, brief, shining, important moment I am meant to capture and express "all that is me". That is a hefty order. And I think I might need more than one pair of shoes to do that...

Here are just a few of the ideas that have been dancing in my head...

"Quirky" 

How about these for a little "something blue"? These little beauties are designed and hand-made in Scotland by Caroline Thompson for Mandarina. Caroline's designs have a delightfully vintage aesthetic, and she uses fabrics that are always lush: silk, velvet, brocade, to die for...  £165.00 GBP 

"Sassy"

Red is all the rage. These are Spanish, by Farfalla.  (on eBay.co.uk for £50. GBP)

"Elegant"

Traditionalists, breathe a sigh of relief. Aren't these darling?! Kate Spade, of course. $300. USD

www.katespade.com

"Diva"

                     I nearly wept when I saw these. Electric Blue Roses by Karen Millen.                                            (on eBay.uk for £200. GBP)

Tagged!

I have been a tagged on Facebook and by Victoria Plum. When you get "tagged" you are meant to respond by creating a list of "Random Things" about yourself. Facebook asked for 25 Random Things, and Victoria Plum has asked for 6 Random Things. So to split the difference, here are "11 Random Things about Me":

1.) I secretly love Country Music.

2.) Have always wished that I had learned to play the cello as a child, instead of violin.
3.) Would love to one day have twins -- how very Shakespearean.
4.) Not afraid of heights, but seriously afraid of falling.
5.) I "sound" tall, and people are often surprised when they meet me at how tall I am not.
6.) Would love to go on an archaeological dig with the "Time Team".
7.) Would love to be a contestant on "Mastermind" with specialist subject: "Shakespeare" OR  "Blackadder - Series 2: Elizabethan Era".
8.) Believe nothing in life is ever truly random.
9.) Would love to meet Rowan, Archbishop of Canterbury.
10.) Would love to be the Archbishop of Canterbury, or at least "The Vicar of Dibley." 

11.) First met my D.E.B. in the checkout lane in Tesco in 1996.

I am passing the "Tagged Torch" on to: 

She's not from Yorkshire

Gifts of the Journey 

Random Thoughts

Just...Linda, 

The Handmade Librarian

Nanny Debbie

Chaos theory

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine (who adamantly opposed my leaving New York/moving to England) left a poignant message on my Facebook page:

"Don't forget, lovie: wherever you go, there you are. Watch and listen closely for any repetitive speech or behaviour or situation to make sure that all the frustrations you left behind (and behind and behind) are truly location-specific detritus and not stuff you're carrying around with you."

On days like today, I wonder if he’s right. I am just shy of the “2 months in” point, and I have fallen into chaos. I've mentioned the broken tooth – while eating popcorn of all things! – and “the cold,” and the resulting desire for Tylenol. Well, now, all hell has broken loose! 

The cold, turned into a cough, and last night the cough triggered what felt like the onset of an asthma attack – I've had one of these before, not something I’d like to repeat – the D.E.B. dutifully rushed me to Warwick Hospital, where I was seen—within half an hour I might add—by the “Out of Hours G.P. (General Practitioner)” at the Extended Hours Service Centre. No camping out in a messy, noisy, germ-riddled Emergency Room here, thank you very much.  The doctor was very helpful, patient, and cute. But I digress.

It turns out that:

a.) my allergies have gone hay-wire, triggering my asthma, which has been relatively dormant while I was living in New York; 

b.) the “ringing in my ears” is the result of a ruptured ear drum (!?!), caused by an ear infection I didn’t realize I'd had,

and,

c.) I have a cold. 

Dare I ask the heavens, “What else?”

So, here I lie, on a beautiful, Thursday morning, in bed. When I could/should be up and out in my new world: morning prayer at St. Peter’s, walking Lucy across the Barford playing field, taking my body for my 5K loop to Sherbourne and back, &etc.

And of course, our bodies pick the worse possible timing when it comes to being ill. I have a long week ahead. Tonight, the D.E.B. and I have tickets to see David Tennant (the current Dr. Who) in Love’s Labours Lost at the RSC. These tickets are GOLD DUST! We have fabulous seats—thanks to my connections at the Shakespeare Trust—and there I shall be, hacking away, trying not to bring up a lung in the front row. Brilliant.

Today is also the day when I should be making an appearance at The Shakespeare Institute, at the weekly “Thursday Seminar,” a.k.a. weekly “Shakespeare Schmooze Fest.” Tomorrow night, the D.E.B. and I are carousing with friends at a culinary event, “Claridge’s Night,” at Stratford College. What a joy my fellow diners will have with me sputtering over their foie gras.

Festivities continue through the weekend. Sunday, D.E.B. is performing at a charity event in Warwick (He is a darling, truly.) and in the evening we are going to see American folk diva, Diane Ponzio in concert in Stratford.

I am grateful to have such an active and full social life. And I am even more grateful that the D.E.B. has friends that are actually, really wonderful, and whom I actually, really, honestly like and enjoy!

My stress and angst are down to my own poor planning. I am scheduled to give two, separate, Shakespeare lectures in Stratford next week on Tuesday and Thursday. I have known about both of them for quite some time. Am I prepared? Am I ready?       

I think the word Gordon Ramsay uses is “shambolic.” If “procrastination” were a country, I would be its Queen. My upcoming lecture at The Shakespeare Institute next week is only the most significant lecture of my academic career. Why not wait until the week before to flip out, and panic about it? Oh, yeah. And then, get sick.

Perhaps, some things don’t change, no matter where you are.