Walking

Larisa must never know her shoes fit me or she will start trying to dress me every time we leave the house together. (In fact, I am wearing one of her sweaters right now.)

When Larisa came home from wearing them Sunday afternoon, she told me about the man who asked her to a nightclub--and how she refused by saying she had to get home to feed her baby (me).

I support the right of any woman (or man!) to dress like a hooker, a rodeo clown or David Bowie in Labyrinth, but I personally will not be wearing the zipper shoes for more than a snapshot.

I prefer shoes made for walking.