Here it is the 4th of April and I still haven't been outdoors in sandals. What a slacker!
When I lived in Germany, I could wear my sandals anytime except during a brief period between November and February; in Ottawa, I've always thought of St Patrick's Day as the day I start to plan for the big toes reveal. This consists of finding the boxes I put away the year before, checking to make sure I actually have some sandals, sloughing the dry skin off my feet (usually a multi-day, multi-tool operation), choosing the nail polish that meets both my fashion and ageism requirements and, in spite of my obvious need, declining to book a pedicure.
A couple of years ago, some company in Britain came out with Fit-Flops, the shoe that they claim tones your legs and other possibly-affected body parts. I bought some. I loved them, wore out a pair, bought a sequinned pair the next summer (of course I own sequinned shoes), and wore them all over the place in France, where flip-flops are anything but de rigeur.
I've been trying to convince Dave that he should get a pair of the men's version, but he seems to think his legs and other possibly-affected body parts are doing OK. Since we made a pact in 1974 not to comment on each other's appearance, which by the way, I think was one of the cornerstones of our successful relationship, I'll just let that go.
CBC weather is predicting a high of 13 degrees (55.4 Farenheit), which is about 8 degrees above where I find bare toes acceptable, so today is the day I start the 2011 version of the sandals tradition. I think it calls for something decadent for breakfast.
Drat, if I'd planned better, I could put on my sandals and walk down to the Market for a croissant and café au lait.