I haven't written in a while and I fear, for my most devoted readers, no excuse will suffice. I have, I know, severly weakened if not eliminated the intelligent life force behind internet blogging. But never fear, gentle reader. Super Footwear Girl is here.

You may be alarmed, shocked, surprised, or indifferent to the mention of my alias "Super Footwear Girl," and so I must explain. Upon returning from my last trip to Mr. Awesomness' house where I spent an indeterminable amount of time sulking over my impending destitution and jobless esate and the grief my mother has been supplying in regards to my much desired matrimonial bliss, I have come to a conclusion. That there is no time like the present for us to be married. In order to elope with my sweet heart and begin "Happily Ever After," I must first settle some debts here and, most importantly get enough gas to traverse the long way back to him.

Having no job, I wandered aimlessly in my mind, debating on how much a yard sale including all of my fineries would sum up. About nothing was the conclusion. My lifetime of collecting has given me many sentiments that are of no value to anyone but me. So what was I to do? Where to turn? To Famous, of course. Good old reliable Brown Shoe Company. Now I am currently back at my home stead (no, now mind you, not the closest store to me, they had no hours to give me.) I am re-employed with the store in the ghetto. 37 miles away from my house. Where I work 54 hours a week and can expect a pay check that will cover my gas mileage and if I am lucky, the expense of some ramen noodles.

Ahh, to be poor an in love. It would be tolerable were he but here to comfort my weary mind. But, as it is, it's just me and God hanging out. My mother has all but declared me the stupidest woman alive, my father is in the midst of dying and my brothers have never really noticed me anyways. I am sadly to busy for most of my friends and as for going to church, well, it's either go to work and earn $6.19 dollars for that hour or sit and be miserable for the want of Mr. Awesomness to hear the sermon and be at my side to discuss it later. Or to listen to me discuss it.

I cry about him not being here and I wish I had him to dry my tears. I now know what they mean by the phrase, "Don't marry the one you can live with, Marry the one you can't live without"

Off to find more sources of income so that I can go home...