Random Tuesday Asparagus and Footwear

Yeah, you know you’re at the Sushi Bar when both food and shoes are in the title of the post.

Anyhoo.

Much to my delight, we received our first delivery – ahead of schedule – from our CSA co-op yesterday.  Not a large delivery this early in the season, naturally, but enough to make me giddy.  It contained radishes, some baby lettuces and this:

 

Asparagus

I had no idea there was such a thing as purple asparagus, but there is.  And it was delicious in this:

 

Chicken and Asparagus Stir Fry

I LOVE spring.

Another delicious component of the stir fry – which, maybe surprisingly, had no Asian flavors at all – was another find from the Local Roots co-op on Saturday:

 

Dark Chocolate Balsamic Mustard

Yes, that would be Dark Chocolate Balsamic Mustard, made with Dark Chocolate Balsamic Vinegar which I am going to order online in the next 3 minutes.  The mustard itself has quite a kick, but a wonderfully smooth, rich undertone and finish.  I put about a teaspoon in the stir fry and it was just marvelous.  Today, it’s going in a salad dressing destined for those baby greens that came with the asparagus yesterday.

And, finally, my newest pair of shoes:

 

Vibrams FiveFingers Treksport

Beloved and I are doing quite a bit of walking these days, and after wearing these almost non-stop for the past 3 years I have come to dislike my regular walking shoes intensely.  However, it’s rather hard to hike through the muck and mud in a pair of Crocs ballerina flats, so new shoes were in order.  I’m not going to go into whether or not barefoot running or running in minimalist shoes is adventageous or dangerous – I’m not a runner, and never will be for a variety of reasons – so let’s just suffice to say that these particular Vibrams, which are made specifically for walking/hiking over rough terrain, are what I am now wearing when Beloved and I go off the beaten path, so to speak.

Besides, I really like the odd looks I get from people when I wear them.  ‘Cause I’m just that way.

Now, head on over to Stacy’s and get your Random Tuesday on.

Is It Spring Yet?

I am busier than a Kennedy at a strip club with an open bar, so I’ve not gotten around to read and comment much the last couple of days – sorry about that!  I will rectify the situation as soon as I can find time to breathe.

I also don’t have much time to post today, but I will share my giddiness that it will be a blazing 67 degrees in Podunk today!  Spring, that capricious flirt, is teasing me with sunshine and warm weather.

So, I present you with the First Sign of Spring:

I dug out the Crocs and capris.

Have a lovely Spring day, y’all.

Of Crocs And Capris

When Ms. Meta wrote this post, which was picked up by MidLifeBloggers.com, I wanted to comment. In fact, I started to comment, but I had so much to say on the subject that I decided it merited its own post.

I really had an issue with the quote by Tim Gunn:

“Women in their ’40s should always try to avoid horizontal stripes, jackets that hit at mid-thigh, pleated pants, double-breasted blazers, Capri-length pants and low-rise jeans.”

Quite frankly, I don’t know who the hell Tim Gunn is, but according to him I’m a walking fashion faux pas. If women over 40 shouldn’t wear Capris-length pants, then just shoot me now; you’ll take my capris when you pry them off my cold, dead ass. The same goes for my mid-thigh jackets. I’ve got news for you, Mr. Gunn – I’m exactly five feet tall. Every jacket I’ve ever owned hits me at mid-thigh (the sleeves hit me at mid-shin). My slacks are almost all pleated because they hide that “you’ve had three kids and the last one was by C-section” tummy bulge extremely well and while I don’t own any double-breasted blazers it wouldn’t matter anyway because I’m not buttoning one up in this lifetime, let me tell you right now. A blazer’s sole purpose, in my wardrobe at least, is to camouflage my butt. Period.

Now, the horizontal stripes and low-rise jeans aren’t an issue. The stripes because anyone who grew up with my mother has an emotionally crippling horizontal stripe phobia; the mere thought of wearing horizontal stripes brings on a post-traumatic flashback of “No horizontal stripes! NOOOOO horizontal stripes! They make you look fat! FAAAAAAAAAT!” The next thing you know, you’re lying on the floor in the middle of Macy’s womens department sucking your thumb and whimpering. (I was in my 30s before I’d wear white for the same reason.)

As for low-rise jeans – you’ve GOT to be kidding me. When I was 10 years old, they were called “hip-huggers” (back in the days when it was socially acceptable to actually have hips). I didn’t wear them then, and I’m not about to wear them now. The entire free world may rejoice; I’ve just saved anyone who crosses my path from wanting to rip their eyeballs out with their bare hands. You all remain safely sighted. Besides, I have yet to find a pair of low-rise jeans with a gathered, elastic waist.

Ms. Meta’s Fashion For The Middled Aged post was spurred by an earlier post where she pondered if she was too old for Doc Martens, saying she wears them because they are so darn comfortable she never wants to take them off. Honestly, that is the basis for my (according to Darling Daughter) abnormal love of Crocs shoes. I shudder to think what Tim Gunn’s opinion of my collected footwear would be, but hey – at least it doesn’t consist entirely of 2 for $5 flip-flops from Old Navy. My Crocs are comfortable and they come in such a vast array of styles and colors that I have a pair that will coordinate with just about any pair of capris I own, which is saying something. Yes, I do own dress shoes, but not one of them has a heel over an inch-and-a-half; my days of wearing 6-inch stilettos outside of the bedroom are long behind me.

Thank gawd. For, like Ms. Meta, “I’ve reached an age when I’m no longer willing to be a slave to fashion if it HURTS.” So, if you happen to see a really short, dumpy middle-aged woman with curly brown yet gently graying hair, metallic pink bifocals, wearing an oversize pink-and-lime vertical striped shirt over a lime green tank with white capris and hot pink Crocs, she’s making a statement. She’s comfortable and could look a helluva lot worse.

Coming Out of the Closet

The other day, I was hunting around for a pair of sandals I have that would go perfectly with one of the new outfits I bought over Mother’s Day weekend, when I realized – dare I say it? – I own a LOT of shoes.

I love shoes, and it probably has a lot to do with the fact that my hands and feet are the only parts of me, except maybe my earlobes, that could be described as “small” or “dainty.” My feet, unlike my ass, look good in just about anything so I tend to indulge myself in that area.

Need proof?

My shoe rack

No, these are not the only shoes I own. Notice how they are neatly put away in the rack that hangs on the back of our closet door? They’re there because I don’t wear them anymore. HERE are the shoes I wear:

Shoes I wear

Now to be fair, one of the reasons they’re all tossed in a heap in there is because more than half of the floor of MY side of the closet is occupied with luggage. And why is our luggage laying on the bottom of our closet and not put away somewhere neatly, like the storage area in the basement? Because Beloved is in charge of the luggage, which is a semi-permanent fixture in his life. So why isn’t the luggage on HIS side of the closet? Because then his side of the closet wouldn’t look like this:

Beloved's Shoes

Note that there is some semblance of order to his side. Why? NO LUGGAGE. You might also take note of the fact that he has a lot of freakin’ shoes himself, for a guy. And take my word, there is not one cheap pair of shoes over there, and there are certainly no shoes from PayLess in this lineup. With the exception of my many pairs of Crocs, I do not own one pair of name-brand shoes, which is more (or less) than I can say for Beloved.

OH – and speaking of Crocs, looky at what I bought Tuesday:

Crocs Golf Shoes!

Guess what they are? No, not ugly (shut up, Darling Daughter). They are GOLF SHOES. PINK CROCS GOLF SHOES. I do believe I’ve died and gone to golf shoe heaven. (Yes, I play golf. Poorly.)

Darling Daughter would like me to allow her to state her case about the ugliness of my wonderful, comfortable Crocs by posting this picture we found on I Can Has Cheezburger yesterday:

Cat in Crocs

That’s what I get for raising them to think for themselves.

A Senior Moment

When I was posting the other day about my Crocs collection, I don’t know how I could have possibly forgotten about these:

Cowboys Crocs

I guess they slipped my mind because I’ve only owned them since December. And they don’t really go with any of my clothes except my Tony Romo jersey.

Tony Romo, the little hottie. I’d go on a rant about his choice of girlfriends, but I am simply not up to it.