Finally. I'm allowed back online to rejoin humanity.
Actually, I did get wifi back on Friday night, but coupled with working late, dinner plans, and the imminent arrival of my parents for a three-day weekend in Chicago, I wasn't able to devote myself properly to caressing the internet upon my return. I'm sorry, internets. Will you forgive my negligence of our relationship? I can change, I promise!
My parents, being good midwestern types like myself, are practical. However, as they live in a town where walking to the grocery store, or to Target, or to anywhere further than one's mailbox is seen as something that only eccentric hippies without cars do, they generally consider any occasion to walk about an Exercise Occasion. They prepare for such an excursion with sturdy tennis shoes and sunscreen. I'm completely supportive of the sunscreen (I'm slathered in SPF 55+ over all my limbs from April-October if I'm stepping outside the house, and SPF 15 on my face daily is nonnegotiable), but I tend to differ with them on the tennis shoes. Unless I am running at a clip of more than 6 mph, I leave tennis shoes alone. My mother, bless her practical heart, commented on my lovely low-heeled vintage Mary Janes by saying that I was "so dressed up". Well, those Mary Janes stood up through a leisurely walk around Hyde Park and hours of museum meandering with nary a blister or rub on my foot.
On Monday, I thought "oh, the hell with it- sneakers it is!" and put on a pair of well-broken-in trainers. Those shoes managed to make my right heel bleed from 5 pm onward, and my arches hurt like hell at the end of the day.
I'll stick with my magical heels of fashion and function, Mom, thanks.
Those Mary Janes sustained a casualty prior to our Sunday jaunt around Hyde Park, unfortunately. While sitting in their hotel lobby with my mother, she noticed that a big gash had mauled the back of my right shoe. I left them alone for a few days, and then decided that Walgreen's would probably be able to provide a solution in the form of true brown nail polish.
Do you know how damn hard it is to find a true brown nail polish? They're all either shimmery ("Chocolate Twirl") or burgundy ("Darkest Wine") or flecked through with gold ("Precious Ore"). I finally settled on a bottle that seemed neither opalescent nor red, and gritted my teeth to try out this solution on my shoes.
For $3.99, I think I can declare: SUCCESS!