Having not made it to the WAB for half-off food since my last blog entry about doing so nearly two months ago, I leapt at the chance when my friend suggested dinner. Her boyfriend was on vacation visiting family in England, and I could tell how much she was missing him. We walked from her apartment and updated each other on the various goings-on in our lives. When we arrived, the patio was of course packed and we decided to wait at the bar for someone to leave. As soon as we saw a group get up we tried to grab their spot, but the hostess informed us that there was a waiting list. A moment later she returned saying that a table for two had just opened, but that there was a bird who hung out by the table, "and, you know..." We got what she meant and laughed, saying that we would live dangerously. I found it quite charming that she even bothered to warn us, whereas most places wouldn't give a shit (pun intended.) Of course, not ten minutes after sitting there I noticed a small tap on my hand and looked down to see a spot of something wet and black. I was much more amused than upset about the situation, and I wanted to keep it on my hand to show the hostess. After five minutes or so it grew uncomfortable enough that I had to wipe it off.
I noticed yesterday that I have, for the first time in my life, developed tan lines on my feet from wearing flip-flops. For the past five years or so I have exclusively worn black slip-on Vans, and when I first attempted to wear sandals earlier this Spring, I don't think my feet understood what was going on. The sandals I bought were from Target, an attractive brown color with a contoured sole. They came attached to each other with a short length of elastic string. In my habit of turning often thrown away materials into something functional, I used the elastic as a strap for my sunglasses. Suffice it to say that the string has since gotten more use than the sandals. I gave them an honest shot, but after several uncomfortable wearings I resigned to forever walk in simple, canvas shoes. A month or so later, the Ferndale Bike Club rode to the Berkley Art Bash, and while I wasn't in the market for anything decorative, I wandered into City Style and considered some Detroit-themed apparel. What caught my eye was the plaid design on a pair of flip-flips that at first seemed too flat to be comfortable. Thankfully I gave them a shot and now, two months later, they've made their mark (another intended pun.) My weekends and some weeknights are spent in the same pair of brown shorts and complimentary footwear. Every so often then I catch the front lip on a rug or an un-level section of sidewalk, but for the most part my feet feel like they know where they're going and how to get there.
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