My New Shoes

I have nothing left to write about. I have written an array of papers within the past two weeks which have, for all intents and purposes, fried my mind. I am out of ideas for blogs. I must forewarn that my creativity is strained and weakened. Therefore, I will be describing and discussing my new pair of shoes. How exciting for you.

My new shoes are boots. They are similar to the usual Ugg boots, except that they are not Uggs brand boots nor do they share the same kind of soles that Uggs have. The soles of these shoes are a bit firmer and less padded.

My boots are a dark brown chocolate color. They have a cushioned interior and exterior around the foot and leg. They reach up to my shins, but are folded down to prevent a ruffle in my jeans. They are warm and remind me of slippers.

Generally, I can wear any kind of socks that I want with them. Thin socks, thick socks, wool socks, cotton socks, synthetically blended socks, white socks, socks with colors, socks with designs and little red socks with snowmen on them have fared quite well with my boots thus far.

These boots are size seven and a half. Generally, I wear a size seven, but my feet are narrow and tend to vary in size. It really depends on the maker of the shoes.

I am glad that I bought these boots. They are a pre-Hanukkah gift from my mother that I purchased on Black Friday. Originally, I was not going to purchase my boots, because I was looking for black ones instead of brown. However, I made the right choice and will continue to enjoy my boots for the rest of the winter.

This is the first homage that I have written to my shoes. I am not sure if I have reached a new low.

Note: The picture for this blog is a pair of Ugg boots that look like my boots , even though my boots are not Ugg boots. For some reason, I could not find my boots' model online.

Black Friday 2007

Black Friday is the day after Thanksgiving when people become frenzied due to media manipulation and feel as though they must get all of their holiday shopping done that day in order to save gargantuan amounts of money. Specifically, stores lure people into their doors as early as possible. My friends and I were no exceptions and woke up at 7 a.m. to start spending our money and satisfy our materialistic needs.

My best friend in the entire world since I was three years old, Daniela, drove up in front of my house at 7 a.m. This was not a far drive, since she is my next door neighbor. We left for Kohl's which is a department store that opened at 4 a.m. We ran into Kellie, who, like Daniela, is one of those people I simply can not live without.

Daniela, Kellie and I shopped from approximately 7:30 a.m. until 8:30 a.m. at Kohl's. Then we got on the check out line. It was one of those lines that would make an airport proud, since it managed to veer halfway around the store.

However, being the crafty sorts that we are, my friends and I naturally devised a plan to use the situation to our advantage. One person held our space on the line, while the other two ran frantically around the store as if everything was free. We stood on that line until 9:15 a.m.

After Kohl's, Daniela had to run to work, because the line managed to make her at least half an hour late. Kellie and I decided to buy new shoes. Unfortunately, the latter part of our Black Friday morning was ruined by a scrooge of a police officer who decided to give Kellie a ticket. It was this gentleman's job to stand in a mall parking lot and look into people's cars. If those people did not have a seat belt strapped on, they promptly received a ticket.

After Kellie received her ticket, we decided to still buy shoes and then left. It was 10 a.m., and we were exhausted. We both went home to take naps and save up our energy for that night when we spent more money that we did not really have.

Everything considered, it was a memorable first Black Friday shopping experience.

The Lake

The lake that I frequented throughout my childhood is called Sylvan Lake. It is about an hour's drive away from my house. It is where I have felt most at peace with myself.

The lake itself is no different than any other. It is a natural, fresh water lake that hosts a summer camp along with public and private beaches. My family had a bungalow in a community on one of the private beaches.

Artificial, white sand was put down every year at the shore in order to give the lake a more "beachy" atmosphere. Lots of young children including myself and my brother built sand castles and dug holes in that soft, smooth sand. The adults would sit under huge weeping willows trees that grew beautifully by the water.

The swimming area was divided into two sections. There was a deep section and a shallow section separated by a steel dock with green, felt padding covering it. As I grew older, the deep side became my favorite section because of its floating dock.

The floating dock was about a lap away from the steel dock that separated the two swimming sections, allowing it to float in deep water. I loved swimming out to the wooden, floating dock to sunbathe. It was a private place that I could get to by myself, which became more and more important as I grew older.

Sometimes I think about the floating dock and the lake and wonder if they look the same as they do in my memories. I've considered driving up to my lake many times to look but have never done it. I am afraid it might be too much of a blow to my happy memories.

The Bungalow

I am happiest and most content in life when I am in a lake. Throughout out my childhood, my maternal grandparents owned a bungalow in Dutchess County in a gated community centered around Sylvan Lake. The bungalow was sold and my grandparents have long passed, but my memories have remained vivid.

The bungalow was approximately the size of a standard one bedroom apartment. Its structure was connected with another bungalow next to it. To enter, one had to drive up the rocky road (it was only paved for a quarter of a mile before the hill escalated) and park in front of the white bungalow with number 44 painted in gold on the far side.

There were red wooden steps located on the side of the bungalow that led to a screened porch. Four screen windows that were half the length of the entire wall looked out onto a grassy hill that I always ran down to the lake. The porch had old wooden chests full of towels that smelled liked dried seaweed. In fact, the entire bungalow smelled like the lake all of the time, and it was wonderful.

The porch also held a wooden table that hosted many exhilarating Scrabble games. There was also a brown couch and a wooden rocking chair that had green cushions with little, colonial, English soldiers on them. My maternal grandfather was English and carved the wood for that chair himself.

All of the rooms in the bungalow followed a straight line design.

The porch led to the narrow kitchen. The kitchen was nothing more than a hallway with a heating plate, a sink and small refrigerator nestled in the corner. Adjoining to the kitchen was a single bathroom that held a standing shower and stain glass windows facing the porch. (They were not transparent.)

The kitchen led to the living room. The living room consisted of two beds placed in both corners of the room. They were green leopard print and matched the green carpet. However, somehow the room was impressive looking.

Finally, the bedroom was at the farthest end of the bungalow. It was orange. However, my grandmother made that room look good too. The beds had red and orange comforters with leaf prints on them. The closet consisted of a bar with six hangers and an orange curtain over it.

When I visited, no less than five people stayed at this bungalow at any given time. We always made my father sleep on the porch, while the rest of us took the beds in the latter rooms.

There were many wonderful memories that took place in that bungalow. This is probably one of the reasons why I associate lakes with such positive, happy feelings. I have never been happier than when I was in that bungalow. I’d give almost anything to experience those feelings and feel that alive again.