Wednesday, March 01, 2006

Brokeback Bystander

So, Brokeback Mountain was the saddest damn movie I'd seen in almost forever. It broke my no-sad-movies rule which I implemented b/c I get too upset and can't let it go and wake up dreaming about the sadness the next day. This case proved to be no exception, and it put a damper on my kids-free weekend.

Fortunately, while the kids were with Grandma, and I was nosing about some fashionable shopping areas in Plano with my huzzzzband -- dressed in my pink boucle tulip skirt with matching car coat and my new string of pearls -- I had the misfortune of having only an old pair of brown loafers to go with. It simply was not to be endured, but Gene rescued me in my footwear crisis by finding the exact pair of kitten-heel, square-toe, slingbacks that I had imagined (except it was in pink not brown, but it still matched!) in less than three minutes at that warehouse that calls itself DSW footwear store.

I gave him the information; he brought me the Liz Claiborne, despite the fact that I was lost among wedged sandals half a football field away. He said he'd had lots of practice the day before at a local Pick 'n Pull finding parts for the motor of his dreams.

It was a very cheering experience, and lost only 15% of its sexiness when he didn't pull out his debit card to pay for them.

Life's not perfect, but then, neither am I.

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