These boots...

My feet are finally feeling every bit of the 6.2 miles of pavement they pounded today in Boulder.  A foot massage would be lovely, but the only (willing?) masseuse is my nephew Collin, and even then I doubt double-scoops from Liks Ice Cream could convince him.  So I did what any normal girl with tired toes and depleted energy would do: I shopped.  For boots.  Hard-soled, pointy-toed vintage cowboy boots.  And in my current state, regardless of their sexy boot appeal, even these puppies are the last thing I want to think about walking in right now...  

But let's be honest.  If I was really in that much pain I think a pair of magenta Crocs would be en route to apartment #34 instead.
Which reminds me, I could probably use a new pair of tennys, too...