Do you know how I know for sure I'm rural? The other day, while discussing children, the following words came out of my mouth: "Oh, I bet he throws a large birth weight, but I have doubts in the yearling weight."
Uhm? Say what?
A two solid years living in this intertwining concourse of pavement and I'm finally falling into my urban groove. However, I'm 100 percent certain that with every pencil skirt and four inch stilettos I purchase, my favorite item in my closet will be my heavily starched jeans and boots.
These are my girls. Left to right: BCBG snakeskin 'kicks, Jessica Simpson too-high-of-a-heal, My new Loves, Anderson Bean Gators, and Ferrini Pink Tops.
Let's focus on that new pair... that gorgeous pair in the middle.
I needed to get a good feel for them, before I shared. Selfish, I tell you. I'm just downright selfish.
I wore them to the Myriad Gardens to watch Space Jam, I wore them as I crawled home from a wedding weekend in Stillwater, and I wore them as I cheered for the Gamecocks in the College World Series.
Do you need proof that I love them? Take a look at the soles. They've become my go-to 'kicks in a matter of weeks. Their intricate details (yes, I'm swooning over the turquoise) has allowed me to pair them with dresses, my new favorite lace shorts, and denim.
And, they're comfortable. Well, after the first wear. But, to be fair I was so excited I didn't wear socks and it's HOT in Oklahoma. Poor planning on my part.
Tonight, I'm leaving for another East Coast weekend trip. If I wasn't planning to doing nothing but getting a tan... these pretty girls would be in my suitcase.
Actually, on second thought... they're coming. They are absolutely coming on this trip. I just love them.
To make sure I'm being honest with you let's give this little quiz a go: Do I like olives? nope. Do I like romantic comedies from the eighties? Yep. Do I have a handsome boyfriend? Yep. Yep. Yep. Do I love these new Shyanne Daisy Mae boots? Ringing affirmative.
There you have it folks. I'm sold, and I'm never taking these boots off. The end.