I laced up my Sorel boots this morning, for about the fourteenth day in a row. I wasn’t thinking about work, finishing up two paintings staring back at me, the state of the economy, global warming, pre-ordering a Verizon iPhone, or even how fortunate I am to just be able to lace up my boots. I was thinking about boots. Okay, I’m not a morning person. I walk into things; and finding my reading glasses and favorite coffee mug is as close to serious thought as I get before 10 am.
This winter, and last, has been unusual for coastal New Jersey. In previous years, the snow would disappear faster than it arrived. Snow isn’t supposed to hang around here. I haven’t had a need for snow boots since grade school. Yes, I regularly walked to school in two feet of snow (Ohio), dressed like Ralphie in "A Christmas Story."
Shoe shopping doesn’t top my list of things to look forward to. Boots are a different story. I love boots. I love my Sorel boots. They are warm and dry but not even close to sexy. Boots I feel good in, the suede heels, in particular, won’t be seeing the outside of my house for quite awhile.
There is plenty of time left today to figure out how to make a concrete and steel warehouse look interesting (work.) I’m creating boot art right now. Is it really procrastination if you are thinking about whatever it is you are putting off, while you are doing something fun?
“The pursuit of truth and beauty is a sphere of activity in which we are permitted to remain children all our lives.” Albert Einstein.
Thanks Albert, I’ll be an adult later this afternoon. I'm going to truthfully pursue the art of my beautiful boots. If I can't wear them, I'll paint them.