Wild, Wild West

When I was a kid you couldn’t pry my pair of red cowboy boots off me unless I was (a) asleep or (b) eating cake or ice cream. They were my favorite shoes from ages 3-5, even though they probably only fit correctly for a few months in that timeframe. When my aunt first gave them to me they were so big I would clomp around and they would fly off, narrowling avoiding someone’s head; when I got older they were so tight I could only stuff my foot mostly in and walk around gingerly trying to keep my center of gravity over the soles.

I was one of those kids who was allowed to wear whatever I thought looked good, so most pictures of me growing up are pretty badass – usually I’m wearing some sort of dress, with red boots (or my favorite shiny black mary janes), mismatched socks, a sweater in July or a tank top in January. I also used to attach ribbons to a lot of my toys or stuffed animals and wear them as accesories.

Sky and I were at the Anne Bonney over the weekend, scrounging around with his moms, and I laid eyes on some red, red boots. They aren’t pointy, they’re ropers, but they are awfully cute. I’ve been wearing them every day since in order to break them in. The picture is a close approximation – mine have more scuffs and marks on them.

I also redesigned this site because the old design was too fancy pants and modern for me. I wanted some color!