the best thing about going away

is probably coming home.

Well, I guess if it’s not a vacation.

I just came back from being with the kiddies.  That is great and very full of nachas, for sure.  I am very grateful for being part of their lives and I keep looking at the photos.


I like my bed.  I think that’s the biggest thing.  It feels good to get into my bed and stay there until I am ready to get up.  I am not so old and set in my ways, but I like my own space.  I don’t think it’s petty, and I don’t care if it is.  I also don’t care for living out of a suitcase for two weeks, although moving stuff into another dresser is still awkward.

At least I know what I brought with me, so I don’t have to take too long to search for things.

I took 3 pairs of shoes and 2 pairs of boots.  It is winter, after all.

Then I had the husband bring another pair of shoes and 2 more of boots. All except my new boots are black.  My new Naot boots are copper.  Wait; my rain boots are also brown, but I ended up not wearing those for this trip.   I definitely needed the snow ones.

Not other clothing as much, but I like to have lots of choices for shoes.  I couldn’t do it if I were flying, not these days.  Probably wouldn’t have done it in the olden days, either.  This probably would be a good place for me to rant about the absurdity of airport security trying so hard to be PC that it’s killing us, but you can probably figure out what I would say, so let’s call it a day on that.

I don’t think being obsessed with shoes is a fashion statement, but for me, it is more of a comfort issue.  And shoes have become more important to me in the past few years, ever since I had a big problem with plantar faschitis.  It may not have been caused by the shiva week of wearing no or flat shoes after my mother died,  but it certainly was exasperated by that.  That pain was not something I had ever thought about (can you anticipate pain correctly?), but what was even worse was the cortisone shot I got afterward.  Even though it took the pain away, I can’t imagine having to endure that again.  I truly pity anyone who has to go through that.

I avoid anything that will bring that pain back, so I’m very careful with my footwear.

Plus, during the year of mourning, the only clothing item that I was allowed to buy halachically was shoes (well, that showed on the outside).  It’s amazing how we take advantage of these loopholes, isn’t it?  But that’s a different discussion for another day.

So what shoes did I wear when I got home?

The ones I had worn coming home, of course.  I didn’t need to make myself into anyone else.


One response

  1. Pingback: i want a do-over, but not really « But Mostly Hers

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