Remove, Please.

An all too common site at our island homes.  I love the variety that it lends  from house to house. (um, who is the crazy person wearing zebra print clogs at THIS party???)

Please remove your shoes at the door.  And it should not be that difficult because you should be wearing nothing more than a thin strap of leather across your newly pedicured feet.

BONUS:  You can also train your children to put their shoes where they belong.  At the door.  Notice the myriad of pinks, blues & purples?  Not mine.  And the Poor Fisherman only has two pairs he keeps at the door.  Brown & black.

So, Please Remove Your Shoes at the door of your hostess.  It keeps the dust and dirt out of our already dusty and dirty homes.

It Is A Small World.

And these little boys shoes are proof.

See, my BFF in Texas, works with this girl, Kristina, who used to work for Texas Hospital Association, oh, ’bout 8 years ago.  She went searching for a new job, and guess what?  I found her old job.  Been so long, I don’t remember my title, but basically was assistant to two super cool lobbists who have since moved on to bigger and better things, I assume.  As I have.

So, Bree gets this job with The State (of Texas) a couple of years ago and starts chatting up with this chick Kristina.   They put 2 + 2 together and find out I am me and she is she. Small world, huh?  That now, Kristina keeps up with my blog and hears all sorts of useless island melee through Bree.

We have never even met.  But she has a son who never even wore all these shoes. 

She knows, through Bree & the blog, that SJ could use some shoes.  Why not?  So, thanks to some sweet chic whose job I took in some far away corporate never-never-land and chance by fate now works with my BFF, SJ got his first pair of Flippy Flops.  And that is how memories are made.

Thanks Kristina.