Can you Mend a Moccasin with Duct Tape?

My Wounded Moccasin

Anyone know a good elf I could call? And, I’m not talking one of Santa’s or the kind that lives in a tree; I need one that can make shoes.

Tragedy hit yesterday when I noticed my right foot was enjoying a little bit of a breeze. I looked down and discovered that my Target beaded moccasin had a peep hole just big enough to give my big toe a view of the world below. Besides my Chuck Taylors, these are my favorite shoes.  They are comfy, easy, and, most importantly, can go with any color, texture, or style of jeans (They are at their absolute best though when paired with a skinny.).

My first thought, you didn’t see a thing, Jodie. There is no hole in your shoe. My second thought, everyone will see that there is a hole in your shoe. My third thought, could I stitch them? My fourth and final thought, shit—I ain’t no elf.  My sewing skills are not like my mother’s, who can produce an entire collection for the live Christmas nativity scene for church, including Mary, Joseph, three kings, a chorus of angels, and yes, even the swaddling for baby Jesus all in one day.  I had one skill in that department if duct tape wasn’t involved—button sewing.

My co-worker, Brady, suggested I take the moc somewhere and have it repaired, but that would extend beyond my purchase price ($10) so, no.

You know what? I’m gonna do it myself. I’m gonna use my new fancy phone and find an app, an app called “Sew Your Own Shoe in 5 minutes or Less without Duct Tape.”

Stay tuned for next week’s post where I will find out if I really do have some elf in me.

You think I can do it?

There is an “I” in iPhone: Mine

Ok, you really didn’t think I would go a whole year without buying clothes and not treat myself at all did you? . . . Good, because if I didn’t, I would have surely gone insane.

Now, don’t get me wrong; I didn’t go out and hit up the first cellular store around the block. It was actually a strategic decision to buy a new phone or to stay with my Samsung Rant. What? You never heard of that phone? That’s OK because they don’t make them, along with VCRs anymore.

Let me Introduce You to My iPhone5

It’s a funny thing, but after I stopped buying clothes, I really stopped going into stores all together.  My new hot spot to visit was Festival Foods, where I could buy anything and everything because I couldn’t wear it. (Only Lady Gaga can pull off a meat dress.) This is when I realized that I was beginning to get very cheap, so cheap that my shampoo quality had hit rock bottom—from Pantene to Suave. Ladies, this is when you know it is bad. I mean Pantene is one thing, but Suave for $.99 a bottle is on a whole other level, right up there with gritty Roundy’s ice cream.  Before I knew it, I would be wearing sweatpants to Festival. It was time for a change. I needed to upgrade something before it was too late; a cell phone was my best option since my alarm clock had been recently starting to go off randomly, but most often, at 3 a.m.

I did my research, searching each and every carrier, comparing their phone prices, plans, and coverage. There was an immediate winner: Verizon. I wanted the best service. I was tired of searching for a signal on my Sprint phone which required me to, at times, stand on my tiptoes with my phone over my head praying for a miracle.  Next, I had to decide on a phone. I didn’t even give the non-smart phones one look. I headed straight to the new iPhone5. Jon has an iPhone, and I have to admit, I had a little crush on it, so much so, that I couldn’t keep my hands off of it. (Ok, I will stop there before it gets weird.) Needless to say, Jon was happy when I upgraded.

The first night I had my iPhone, it was like I was a little kid, trying to fall asleep Christmas night after opening all my presents; I desperately wanted to get up and play with my new toy: Tweet, Facebook, Stumble, . . . Yes, I have traded one obsession (clothing) for another (technology). Now, I can just search the web anytime I want and look at all the dresses I can’t buy, haha!

Target Sleepover Slumber Party?

Ok, my slumber party look a bit different that this one. (Provided by http://www.ehow.com)

I awoke each morning the same: staring at the seven and beyond colors of the rainbow, in a collection—too big to count unless I picked each one up—of scarves draped over hooks, an at least four-shelf-high display of heels, wedges, and flats, and two racks of dresses, skirts, and blouses.  Was I in Target? Was I dreaming?

Nope and nope. I was staying over in Jon’s sister’s and her fiancé’s spare bedroom. Like myself, Danielle is a collector of cute clothing; so needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep that weekend. As soon as the morning light invaded the room through the blinds and exposed her mini-store, I was entranced—caught in a very real dream.  I started putting outfits together in my mind: that white pencil skirt with the black belt, with that purple blouse, and conservative black pumps. (I was going to work.)

Just like a little girl, I played make-believe dress up at 6 a.m. while everyone else slept. Weird, yes! Good weird? I’m not so sure. . . . All I have to say is Danielle is lucky she wears a size seven and not nine and a half.

Note: No articles of clothing where confiscated during the plotting, creation, and publication of this blog.