The floor was dirty so instead of sweeping I searched for a pair of shoes.
Where were my comfy crocs?
Oh Well...my church shoes are here by the door and I won't be in the kitchen much longer...
I remember well the days when I would put on moms high heels (when she wasn't looking) and stumble into the kitchen where my reflection could be seen in the oven. I loved how pretty the shoes were and how pretty I felt.
Today my high heels are functional. I can reach things on the high shelf without getting the kid's bathroom stool. I am marching over all the annoying crumbs grinding them into a fine powder and allowing myself a few more meals before I must sweep. They make me feel like June Cleaver and inspire pictures and blog posts.
No matter that my children are confused as to why I am taking pictures of my high heels perched upon the stove...They fit now and as I glance at my reflection they offer me a moment to escape back to a day when all it took was a pair of high heels and a shinny oven door to make me feel pretty.