I’m wearing my lucky red shoes today. I call them my lucky red shoes because every time I wear them I experience career success. (Seriously, get your head out of the gutter)
For example, every time I’ve worn my lucky red shoes to a job interview, I’ve been offered the job. And every time I’ve worn them to a meeting with a new freelance client, they’ve been so impressed with my work they’ve been moved to tears. (I’m not kidding–that actually happened one time. Ask my friend Jennifer. Although, to be honest, it was mostly her graphic design work that induced such joy). I can’t say for sure that it’s the shoes, but they do seem to have quite the track record.
So this morning, for some reason, I was in the mood for the red shoes. I forgot that, 1) I have to drive John’s pick-up truck to work each day so he, in his Mr. Mom capacity, can tote the kids to swim lessons in my car, and 2) that the truck needed gas. In fact, the irony of the red shoes did not occur to me at all until I was standing at the gas pump, next to the 12-year-old truck, in my red high heels and I suddenly realized how ridiculous I must look. This, of course, was brought to my attention by the friendly construction worker who yelled out to me, “Whoa Big Mama!” which I think was some sort of complement. Yea, I’m going with compliment. Surely he can’t know about that extra 5 pounds.
If I’m wearing my lucky red shoes today, and something awesome always happens in the lucky red shoes, then was that the highlight of my day? I might have thought so, since nothing especially spectacular happened to me for the rest of the day. Don’t get me wrong–I had a terrific day (loving my new job, by the way, but that’s a whole other blog post).
Then, as I was driving the big bad pick-up truck home (did I mention there is no air conditioning?), listening to some Hank 96.1, I happened to glance down at the gas pedal and my lucky red shoes. And then I realized: They had indeed served their purpose for the day. After all, without even having to click them together three times ( Dorothy style) my red shoes were taking me home to John. And really, I can’t get any luckier than that.