La-la-la-la...and it feels so good

I started thinking and writing about my 20th high school reunion long before the actual date was on my calendar.

It churned around in my thoughts, refreshingly not because I longed to be a dress size smaller or slightly less single when I'd meet u with some of the hundreds of people I graduated with during the days of bigger hair, higher-waisted jeans and just-as synthy music. I just wanted to see what had unfolded in the lives of all these friends I saw in the hallways, huddled over giant print shop machines as we cranked out the yearbook and school newspaper, on the dreaded track in gym and backstage before senior plays with the drama club.  I wanted to see what they look like, what jobs they do, if they have children, where on earth their lives have taken them.

What was coming, though, I asked for but could never have predicted.

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Friday shoegasm: Don't judge me because I'm janky

Yes, it is true that when I first saw that over-the-knee boots were going to be THE THING this fall, I did a little one-eyed ARRGH! and then lapsed off into a two-minute haze thinking about Johnny Depp smeared in black eyeliner (not mine) and grime (not mine either, but I'll share).

And yes, it is true that my mind was changed when I saw them modeled with cable-knit tights or leggings and cozy but cute sweater dresses.

Yes, I overlooked that those same models had boobs and booties busting out of the sweater dresses and legs that could fit two pairs of over-the-knee boots. Also? I decided it would be just fine to embrace the jankiness that somehow is emitted from boots that cover up knees and (in my case) most of the thigh.

Perhaps it is because those models were inside the latest Victoria's Secret catalog (which means it was Wednesday's edition, not Monday's) or that these same wily models have previously turned me on to the crack (don't take that pun too far, I'm warning you) that is jeggings (don't judge me). Or maybe it is just that the only compensation for a winter of slushy hell is a new pair of boots that will surely get ruined in four to five minutes in that slushy hell.

Regardless, I'm on board with over-the-knees. I'm neither leggy nor runway-ready but I am shameless and wanting. If all else fails, I will tuck them into my panties, throw a belt over a long sweater and just embrace the madness.

Here are three in the queue, awaiting the swipe of my debit card:

These dollbabies, also known as Lush by Two Lips, are the boots that first got my attention. Remember my love of purple suede? Add strappy dominatrixy accessories and give me a chance to cram my thighs into them, and sweetness, I am in heaven. $129.

I like to imagine Steve Madden working furiously in his disheveled shoe lab, a bitter and aging hipster with a slight streak of gray through his oversized sideburns to match the small soft spot in his heart for aging club girls. He never disappoints and these boots -- stretched out so long and also so made conveniently (for those of us with calves slightly bigger than Michelle Kwan's) of stretchy microsuede -- don't seem to either. I love the look of the tilted, thicker, cowboy-boot style heel that's balanced by the sleek twelve feet of velveety black fabric. $129, which is not bad for a boot you might wear almost every day this fall.

The site says these wedge boots made of synthetic suede have an "architectural heel detail". I am still trying to figure out if that is fancy talk for "steps leading up to the place where you zip" or some kind of secret vault bookcase under the place where your arch is throbbing. Regardless, wedge heels are more comfortable and might make up for the fact that this lovely mushroom color is one speed-bumped coffee spill away from permanent ruin. They're not officially over-the-knee, but that can be our little secret since these Mia Rosettas are only $89.

There is something wickedly, wonderfully steampunk about these lace-ups. Could it be the implied invitation to untie them from thigh to tippy-toe? (Not to worry, darlings, they zip in the back and only a reallllly good offer to un-do all those inches of laces should be heeded.) Or is it that they are both sexy and badass and flats (and also mention a "shaft height"...I kid you not)? These Dixies by Sam Edelman are $350 and you know I am scouring the interwebs to find them (or a similar beau) for less than that.

Since you clearly can't save me from my jankiness, which boots would you choose for me? Do any of them trick your trigger for your own pirate self?

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X-ray vision

When I told you about the evening I had with The Other Jessica last week, jumping and screaming and singing at the M.I.A.show, I left out the details of the last act -- the one where we got into a car accident in a cab.

In the moment it happened, we were both startled, probably a bit in shock, and so we did a quick check of ourselves and the scene, gave our information to the taxi driver and hopped another cab home. I fired off the M.I.A. post quickly, pausing only long enough to write a little something about the accident in my Facebook update. Then, completely exhausted, I went to bed.

When I woke up the next morning, the full weight of that taxi t-boning a car that pulled a frantic u-turn in front of us from a parking space hit me. My neck ached terribly and the guilt that I was not wearing a seatbelt -- and I am safety grrrl who ALWAYS wears a seatbelt, even in a cab -- ran through my head over and over. The physical pain didn't subside and so I made an appointment for the very next day with the sports doc who has so kindly been treating my lazy ass and running injuries for eight months now.

He took a round of x-rays just to see how serious the whiplash was. Then, he worked his chiropractic magic on me. The heat and the adjustment eased my inflamed muscles and my mind. Until he came back into the office and asked me if I'd been in any bad car accidents in the past, told me that he wanted to discuss my x-rays with me.

Perhaps I am not the only person who has survived a loved one's traumatic brain injury along with them who has a worse-case-scenario flash every time there is any possibility of complications occuring above the shoulders. That part of me is still healing, I guess, and in an instant, I went right to catastrophizing.

Oh.God, I thought, it's a head injury. It's a brain tumor. Something's really wrong.

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