BrookeClay

Hi.

This blog and I have been through a lot together: graduate school, first jobs, second jobs, cross-country moves, third jobs, fourth jobs, funerals, an engagement, a marriage ... and a divorce. 

We've learned a lot, grown even more and we're still adventuring. 

Let's adventure together.

There's tape on my boot.

tape_on_boots

If you didn't read that in Tom Hanks' voice, I'd appreciate it if you'd spin a 180 on your heel and march back to 1995 - and stay there - until you appreciate the 90s and what they've done for America. '95? Yeah. My nine-year-old self loved some Toy Story.

Yesterday I realized half way through the day, there was tape on my boots. Clear, plastic tape was holding the leather closer to the zipper pull to discourage obnoxious clinging.

Clinging? Sure. Note: I don't hear it. There's too much bright-shiny stuff going on in this world for me to hear the clinging on my boots.

T - he hears it. He heard it when we were walking the loud streets of NYC and insisted we fix them.

So there I was standing like a kid in a hotel lobby while my then-boyfriend taped my boots. We're fancy like that - obviously.

He's a keeper. Any dude who doesn't mind my jokes about being in second grade when I first saw Toy Story and does the math to inform him he was a freshman - is a keeper. In fact, he's such a keeper that after creeping on this blog he'll never mention he read this post. He'll just smile knowing that it was probably a pretty funny sight for onlookers. Think about it. I'm all sassy saying "if you hear it - you should fix it..."

Hope you're having a lovely day, creepers.

B.

Give me that Battleship.

No ranch in Charlotte.