H e thinks they’re silly. I think they’re fashionable. He thinks the only way I can get away with wearing them is if I live in Texas. I think I can wear them because a person can wear anything in California. He thinks just because I can, doesn’t mean I should. I think…I think…I think I’m right. SO THERE.
JD has a long-standing animosity toward cowboy boots. As in he hates mine so much it makes his teeth hurt.
While in Mexico last week, I shopped through the open-air market and saw the skies part like a massive blue curtain. The glory of the heavens shined down, as if pointing to a particular stall, and I followed a white dove to where the light stopped. There stood the most glorious pair of cowboy boots I’ve ever seen. A color cacophony of crimson and brown, with stitched detailing throughout the body.
It’s like God was TELLING me to buy them! JD rolled his eyes as I recounted the story. Of course, there was no sky-parting or dove-following, but I hoped the gravitas of my imagination would make my purchase more digestible. Apparently, JD needs Alka Seltzer to swallow my fashion purchases because he suffers from indigestion every time I don my boots.
And though the battle between Can and Should will forever remain, I’ll wear my boots and stomp on all my nay-sayers. Seltzer-drinking husbands included! |
