Travellin' Shoes

I Think I've finally figured out why older women LOVE red shoes.

You could spend most of your day sweatin' like a broke-back mule, juggling 20 tasks at once, tired and grumpy and sleep-deprived and itchin' to pimp-slap the next simple-assed so-and-so who tries to wreck your last nerve...

...But when you're wearing red shoes, all it takes is one look down to reconnect with your Inner Princess. Red shoes make you feel like you're 4 years old again, and it's Easter Sunday. You feel flirty and fashionable and fun. Footloose. Fancy. Free.

I meant to pack these very shoes to bring along on my latest journey. In fact, it's already begun. I'm typing this posting in Schiphol Airport, where I just finished an 8-hour flight from Nairobi, and now there's a 10-hour one ahead. This time, I'm by-passing the East Coast and getting to the heart of the matter--Chi-town, Cairo and St. Louis--before heading further west.

Oh, here's another reason it's taken 3 weeks and being trapped in an airport and letting my laptop recharge to update this blog! So much has happened, I don't really have time to share it, but I should probably tell you about one really serious incident, which involves my feet. I think I almost killed them during a quick jaunt to Vienna, Austria in mid-May.

In just four days there, I made an immediate connection with the one TRUE "Love of My Life": Pork. One bite of a Kasse Kreiner, and I thought I would go mad with sheer bliss! For better or wurst, in Vienna I realized that the only thing I will NOT eat on a pig are its thoughts, ambitions and deepest anxieties.

But somewhere in that swine and swag-fueled frenzy of shopping and eating in that glorious city, I about wrecked my feet. They haven't really felt the same since. Seriously, the first few days back in Nairobi, I could barely walk. I soaked them in Epsom Salts 2 or 3 times, but they were still on fire. I'm talking throbbing corns, the whole nine.

In fact, I was just about ready to risk needing to get 'em amputated eventually by going to a Nairobi podiatrist when they finally calmed down. That may be due to the fervent prayers I sent heavenward, vowing to be a good girl the rest of my life if God would just make the fire go away! And of course to prepare for today's journey, I had these puppies pedicured and massaged. Oh, and I'm wearing the obscenely expensive MBT "toning" sneakers I bought while I was still in Gulu, which offer a surprising amount of support. (It's been so long since I wore them, I forgot how much. Nairobi is definitely not a walking city, and I was too busy trying to look cute to think to pack them for my Vienna trip.)

In just 24 hours, I'll be back in my homeland. Feet, don't fail me now.