OK, kiddos, I rarely ask for advice here, but I’m really stumped right now.
I am in need of a good pair of winter boots. I have these, which I bought to take with me on ski trips, but they are pretty much worthless. The sole is too stiff, so it doesn’t flex when I walk, which means I pretty much don’t walk in them, I stomp. Also, every time I take a step, my heel comes up out of the shoe and my ankle presses against the front of the hi-top (which I have to lace super-tight so my foot doesn’t come OUT of the shoe), leaving me at the end of it all with a sore ankle and sore legs and knees from walking with an unfamiliar motion.
So, OK. Those boots are crap. But I need boots! I’ve been wearing my good knee-high leather boots, with the low heel and the neoprene-like lining instead, but they’re getting ruined from the weather. I’d like to keep them for nice, since they’re “nice” boots, and not “inclement weather” boots.
What I’m seeking, then, are recommendations. I want something that’s not leather, at least not entirely leather, or that, if it is leather, is designed to take a beating from the elements. I want something relatively light so I don’t feel like I’m wearing cinder blocks on my feet, and I want something that isn’t too bulky to go under my jeans or pants.
I want a lot, I think.
I’ve considered traditional Bean boots, with the GoreTex for warmth and waterproofness, but they are spendy and, since I can’t try them on, I worry about their fit on my feet. This, after all, is how I got stuck with the other boots. So, if you have Bean boots, can you endorse the fit? The lightness on your feet? The flex of the sole, enabling you to walk like a human being and not stomp around like a Yeti?
Alternatively, recommend other winter boots you love, that are warm, dry-feet-promoting, and not so bulky as to, again, cause the Yeti Walk.
Any and all comments are welcomed and appreciated!
I’m feeling old today.
I joke about my age, laugh about being older than many of my classmates (if not most of them). But I don’t generally really feel old. In fact, my brain, most of the time, seems to think I’m about 25. Which is fine with me, because 25 is a good age.
But today, I feel my age. I have some worries on my mind that seem to be the kind of worries 25 year olds don’t have. That might be a completely erroneous impression, too–I am sure plenty of 25 year olds have had these same worries I’m having. But I didn’t have them when I was 25, and none of my 25-year-old friends did, either. When we were 25.
I guess the point of this post is that every now and then something happens that makes you realize you might be older than you’d like to pretend you are. That even though you’re in school again, living that student life, the real world is still out there. And sometimes that real world knocks on your door and says, “Hey! Remember me? I’m still here, and I’m giving you something to worry about today.”
Classes are essentially over for me. I have four more class meetings, but two of those are presentations and one of the other two is a Q&A session. Realizing this brought home the enormity of what lies ahead of me–outlining for the semester. I really haven’t done much of that. And I always forget how long it takes me, when I start outlining, to ramp up to Getting It Done. It usually takes me a couple of days of putting everything in my outline before I realize that I’ve heard the material before and can pare things down.
So that’s what I’m working on right now, while I simultaneously get dinner started–with Mr. Angst’s help, thank goodness. And I’m also mulling over, in my head, the reorganization my comment needs, having met with my advisor this afternoon to discuss Where I Went Wrong.
Right now, it seems like there’s a lot looming ahead of me–and there is. I wasted a lot of time this semester, and I am regretting it now. But I have a lot of free time in the next two weeks, too, so hopefully I can spend most of that writing–writing outlines, revising my comment, and, oh, yes, taking whatever practice exams are available for my two exam classes.
Here’s to renewed RSI.
Sigh. After a five-or-so day respite, I have been informed that I have 56 pages of nasty comments to review. Yes, yes, the word “nasty” was used. Part of me is afraid; part of me is relieved. The afraid part is fairly simple to understand–no one is thrilled to hear that their work is fit for any kind of nastiness. The relief part is also a logical thing–I wanted to churn out the first draft all on my own, and I did, but it was clearly a First Draft, and I am much in need of guidance as to where to go next.
I think this means the next two weeks will be full of writing–again–as I plow through a second draft, work on (starting) my outlines, and polish up other work due for my other classes. I guess it could be worse–I could be a 1L again.
There is nothing worse than traveling with food poisoning. I woke up in the middle of the night with a sour tummy and was sick all day. Note: those bags they put on the plane? Actually useful.
So I’ve been trying to sleep it off since we got home, thanks in no small part to the Dramamine I took at the airport (twice), hoping I would just be knocked out and forget about how awful I felt. Note: Dramamine will knock you out, but only if you can keep it down.
It’s been several hours since I’ve been sick, so I think just laying in my own bed, under warm covers with the lights out was the right prescription. I haven’t, however, been able to get any work done, and I have a lot to do. I don’t think any work I did right now would be any good, though, so I’m trying not to sweat it. Hopefully I can conk out early tonight, get up at a reasonable hour, and at least do my class reading for tomorrow.
So, not the best end to my Thanskgiving vacation, though I had a lovely time otherwise. Of course, I spent much of today wondering what, exactly, made me ill and worrying that it could be a bug and not just food poisoning. With no fever, though, and no other symptoms, I’m guessing the caesar salad at last night’s dinner was the culprit, especially since my dad finished my steak but doesn’t appear to have gotten sick himself.
Blech. Back to the Gatorade.
Thanksgiving has been a bit odd this year. While I’ve loved seeing my family and spending time with them, I’ve had a few too many conversations with family members that leave me feeling uneasy about the future. For some of my relatives, now is a time of new and good things. For others, though, it is a time for leaps of faith, the kind of leaps that, when I was younger, I always assumed would turn out Just Fine for everyone. A little age, it seems, ruins a lot of youthful assumptions, and a little perspective means I’ll worry more than I ever knew was necessary before.
You would figure I’d have dreams of victory after completing the monster last night. And I guess I kind of did. Except my brain sucks at victory, apparently.
Here’s the skinny. I dreamed all the Supreme Court justices–all of them!*–came to somewhere I was. Like my school, maybe, or a conference I was attending? That wasn’t clear. So they were all there, hanging out, and someone suggested they preside over a moot court. Okee-dokee. Except that suddenly, I had volunteered to do one of the arguments. From scratch. Working off an outline of something that didn’t make sense.
Now, you’d think if my brain gave me this setup on a night that is supposed to be full of victorious dreams, I’d knock it out of the park, right? Eh, not so much. Oh, I guess I did better (in my dream) than my partner. Who wasn’t a student but a real, live
boy attorney. But I still wandered around in my dream afterwards thinking, gosh, I wish I had knocked it out of the park.
Sigh. Stupid brain.
*OK, Stevens wasn’t there. I guess my brain is worried for his health, so left him home.