My Shoe Fashionista

It is summer. My boss is out of the country - on active military duty in Okinawa. To say things are going slow at the office is an understatement. Or, at least I think it is. Since I have managed to be out of the office most of the month, that is just a guess on my part.

Last week we mixed business with pleasure as we took our granddaughter with us to Dallas to visit friends and attend the Republican Convention. The whole political convention process reminds me a lot of my mother. As a child, my mother made me eat cabbage every time it was served, even after we had clearly established that it was not on my list of top 5 million foods. The only reason the "at least try one bite" rule was ever lifted was because of my good fortune of developing a stomach virus on one of the days when cabbage was served. (Something about upchucking a detested food seems to seal the point that you are never going to develop a taste for it.)

Back to my point, I do not particularly like politics or political conventions. I attend them, not because there is a chance I will "develop a taste for them", so much as a feeling of responsibility that non-participation leaves the determination of the fate of my political party to those less qualified than myself. Or, in other words, government is run by those who show up. So, every two to four years, I take the time to show up.

But, the really great part of the trip was learning that our granddaughter, Hannah, at the ripe old age of six, is a full blown fashionista monster. I packed for three days, anticipating both business and casual meetings, including two pairs of shows. All Hannah was going to do was hang around with Pops for the three days. She came prepared with five pairs of shoes. At their trip to the zoo, the shoes she was wearing caused blisters on her feet. The following morning as I dressed her, I insisted that she wear tennis shoes with her dress to prevent worsening the blisters. (My motto: If shoes hurt your feet, throw them away.) She was reluctant to give up her fancy shoes and was quick to tell me that the other shoes did not match her dress. Common sense prevailed and she reluctantly donned the tennis shoes.

I thought my common sense had won the argument until we were all discussing the agenda for the day. Since attending business meetings would prevent me from accompanying Jerry and Hannah to the Heritage Park, I suggested that Pops take pictures to commemorate the day. Hannah insisted that her feet were not to be included in any of the pictures. So much for my common sense and her vanity.

Her mother says that traveling with 50 pairs of shoes is a trait she can live with. (She did not get that from me.) Who am I to complain?

But, just so you know, Pops did include her feet in one picture.