I've got a hole in me pocket . . .

After having NO money for a LONG time, like an extreme return to an addiction, when I finally grabbed ahold of a steady flow, I learned something about myself.

I've never thought of myself as one to care what she looked like. Every time I need new clothes, it's off to good will. And even then, I HATE shopping.

Well . . . Tara now has me babysitting at least once a week for the whole day & pays me $80. Now, don't give me that look. Yes, Maggie is family, but I have been told by many people that I have the patience of a saint - with children, with customers, you name it. I'm the patient type. Maggie is boldly going where no little critter has gone before. She really pushes that patience. Don't get me wrong - I HATE kids but I love her because she's my sister - but honest to god, she is the pickiest human I've ever met with a mind so closed it will suffocate. So we play on the wii until she gets so upset, I fear for the life of my television which is within throwing distance of a frustrating wiimote. The we watch a movie or colour or both. Last time, Tara gave us money to go out to lunch (thank god, because on this diet, I don't have ANYTHING in the house that Maggie likes) & sometimes we play something with just us like twenty questions or we have to name an animal for very letter of the alphabet. Although, last time we got stuck on U . . . unicorn isn't a real animal . . . & at the age of six, "unprocessed steak" really isn't that funny, & she doesn't know who Underdog is.

Anyway, $80 a week. And I'm still knitting & holding onto the hope that it will sell in November. And when the new car comes in in August, I'll try & get a job waiting tables at the Crackpot. They serve crabs (in MD) & liquer. Can you think of a better place to get tips? Um . . . that are rates PG13? Didn't think so. And it's within a nice distance. Especially for the car I'll inherit that gets 12 miles to the gallon. I forsee my checks to be mine & my tips to be gas money . . .

SO, back to my discovery about myself. After a drought, the money I've been getting has been flying right out of my hands. And I thought my mother would scold me, but as it happens, she was actually pretty impressed that I managed to get as much as I did at as high a quality as I did with as little money as I had.

Shoes. I've discovered that shoes are my guilty pleasure. And I thought I wasn't the type. But I am. Now, my mother is aware that people pay between $50 & $120 for one pair of shoes. For about $120, I got six. Not form payless or Walmart, from Newport News. Two pair are as casual as 4 inch heels can get (by the way, they're all 4 inch heels. Not something did on purpose, they were just the ones that looked good). One of those being leather with wingtip detailing & the other a grey suede oxford with a pentagonal heel. Two are more dressy. A simple navy suede pump with a round toe & a simple suede deep teal pump with a thin silver strap across the top of the foot. The final two, I just wanted. Completely unaccepted by societies outside of strip-clubs or costume parties. Still 4 inch heels, but these final two are the exact same style in two different colours. Deep teal & Saphire. BRIGHT vibrant colours. Shiny leather. And a strap around the ankle. Fortunately, people who know me - should they ever see me in these shoes - will see them & laugh because they look good, but they are so out of character for me & they would be something of a symbol of my coming out of mt shell. People who don't know me would instantly label me as a slut. They're those kind of shoes. I have no idea when I'll wear them & expect them to be in a costume of some sort before anything else & I'm thinking someday of getting a green pair to wear just on St. Patrick's day.

Hi, my name is Ripley. And I have a shoe problem.