In which I blather on about a pair of shoes

So, I feel the need to write an entry (or whatever it's called) in order to commemorate my most awesome pair of shoes ever. Bear with me, here. Essentially, the reason my shoes are so super awesome is that I bought them one fine spring break (the one of my senior year) because I was starting to think about wrapping up my honors thesis (and by 'starting to think about wrapping up' I mean, 'going all "oh shit, why did I not start collecting data months and months ago??"') and then it occurred to me that I would have to defend said thesis, and then it occurred to me that I would want to be professionally dressed for the occasion in question, and that I would need snazzy heels in order to be able to do so.

So I bought these excellent professional-looking black heels that were high but not too high and pointy but not too pointy and a little uncomfortable but not excruciatingly so. Also, with a pencil skirt and some nylons? It seems there is a reason women choose to wear these things to work. It makes your legs look magically grown-up and business-like and sexy all at the same time. Definite win. And they continued to be total win through several important life events.

First, some research presentations. These involve young student-researchers making a poster about their research (which involves a night or two spent in the lab, wringing some sort of sense out of your insufficient data, and another night or two spent in the science library, obsessing over the layout and finally printing the sucker) and then standing around in front of it while people mill around, pretending to be interested in your topic of research. I wore my excellent shoes to two or three of these events, and stood in front of my poster, and even if my data analysis was total crap (or missing entirely, at some of the earlier conferences), I looked professional and my poster had photos of cute babies on it.

Then, the thesis defense. My voice did not wobble and my shirt matched my eyes (apparently) and when I forgot the age group of the children in one study I referenced, my mentor helped me out, and at the end, they told me they would give me high honors if our college awarded them, and that it was some of the most clear writing they'd ever seen from a student (you'd never know it, reading this, though), and that that was the mark of a clear mind, and that they looked forward to seeing what I did in the field. I walked all the way home in my short-sleeved eye-matching shirt and my excellent shoes, in the early spring early morning chill, and when I got home my feet were bleeding but I didn't even care.

After that, I decided to get a job in Italy. I wandered around Bologna for a few days with my CV, wearing flip-flops and carrying my excellent shoes stuffed in my purse. When I came across a language school, I'd put on the shoes and ring the bell and offer my CV to whoever was there. I also wore them on my first-ever Italian train ride from Bologna to Reggio to interview at the school where I currently still work.

Similarly, I wore them to the daycare where I worked for a few months when I was home a year ago... and was massively over-dressed, looking even snazzier than the boss and the director, with my CV all equipped with research experience and my fancy degree and all that. How to get a job instantly: apply for something for which your are massively, hideously over-qualified, but smilingly tell them it's actually what you've always wanted to do.

Then I came back to Reggio, back to teaching, and was sent to the Uber-Fancy Local Fashion Company to teach. I went wearing all black and my excellent shoes, and have not been tossed out yet (it was threatened that we wouldn't be sent there if we weren't well dressed enough). I can clearly remember my first morning there, (mentally) sweating bullets and hyperventilating just a little while waiting for the managing director of god-knows-what to show up so I could teach him English. Hoping no one would see me and be all "ew, a shoddily clad american - get her away from our fashion awesomeness". No one did, and the managing director of god-knows-what was a delightful gentleman, and to this day I have still never been thrown off the premesis. In fact, I sometimes go wearing jeans and my excellent shoes, and still look decent enough to teach at least the younger, non-manager types. My shoes have always been loyal and awesome.

Until yesterday, when I noticed that they have sort of become all stretched and loose, and one of the heels feels not to stable, and also I've been mean and haven't polished them in ages. I've had new bottoms put on the heels (you know, that rubber part that gets worn down when you stomp around in your shoes like I do?) several times, but I think this time they are unsalvageable. And since I cannot have bits falling off when I am teaching at the UFLFC (or, uh, anywhere else, really) I think it is time to retire them. Poor shoes. I feel like I should bury them or something. Perhaps I will just bury them in the back of my closet, since I am not quite ready to let them go.

I sound like a nut job. In other news, the perma-grey has returned to the sky as of this morning. You know how my one student told me once that, in Reggio, you can tell it's spring or summer when you can see individual clouds in the sky, and winter when it's just a sheet of grey? Well, it's a sheet of grey. It looks like a layer of compacted fog, ready to descend on the populace at any moment. Delightful...