Today's entry, poppets, is a Q&A-free zone. Not to be mistaken of course, with T&A, something of which your Mare is never free. Gah.
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I've got a whole entry planned about this disagreement that Stella and I are having about an incident that occurred five years ago, in London. The thing is, the backstory on the anecdote is long and involved and requires a plot chart and a pre-planned outline and perhaps some words that I've yet to learn. So, I promise, when I have more than 15 minutes to add a little adjective to all of our lives, I will tell you the story behind the Was It A Date With Keanu, or Wasn't It A Date With Keanu Mystery. (No, not that Keanu. Don't you think I would have told you about something like that before?) Anyway, just... keep reminding me, so I don't just sit on it, and waste a perfectly good tale.
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In other news, I went shopping with my sister for shoes on Saturday. And Sunday. And it was a long and exhausting ordeal, because my sister is 5'10, and has size 11 feet. Now, she's totally proportioned, so it's not like her feet are freakishly large or anything. And if she has to go to work, or casual play, she's all set; finding shoes is not that horrible a problem when all she's looking for is a plain old loafer. Shoe retailers and manufacturers alike, however, seem to believe that Teacher shouldn't be allowed to dress up in pretty frocks and lovely sandals, and have stated their beliefs by simply not providing the shoes! God! Talk about frustrating! By the end of the day on Sunday, I was getting so angry for her, I can't even begin to explain. I was ready to launch a campaign, and throw hissy fits and tantrums and bricks through windows. We went all over this freakin' city, getting more and more dejected with every store. We hit malls. We hit boutiques. We hit speciality stores for tall women. We hit speciality stores that advertised larger sizes, and even they only had day shoes! What the hell! Finally, after digging and digging, we came up with a pair that will do the job... but let me tell you... it was a hard-fought battle. Anyone with advice on the matter, you're more than welcome to share. The guest book is the first door on the left, just past the bar and the powder room. I had to get rid of the curtained tryst alcove that used to be there, because Taylor was breaking too many of my butlers' hearts.
The whole tragic tale does have a good side, however. I found the cutest red sandals in the world for a fabulous price. Sale, sale, marked down, marked down again, and final sale. It doesn't get better than that, darlings. Now, if only I can remember to get rid of the pink toenail polish I've been sporting so that I can wear the new reds and not be a total foot colour clasher.
Love you all, my darlings. Especially you. I'll meet you in the alcove. (Oh you knew I wouldn't really get rid of it!)
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