These Shoes Were Made for Talking

Hey hey, it's Suzanne's Slippers checking in. My friends call me SS for short. Would you like to be my friend? Come on in. Sit right down. I've got some pics from our New Year's trip to share. Lord help you if you are still on a dial-up.

Aside from being stylish and functional, the Slipper Gods of Good Fortune smile brightly on me. I don't mean to brag but I perform an important role in the process Suzanne calls "rest and relaxation." I'm more inclined to call it complete and utter slothfulness but you won't hear me complain. I've got a good gig.

Yet I didn't spend the whole week propped up! We participated in group activities and pulled our weight. Yo! Alert! I think the keg needs to be re-iced.

Check out the nifty glass sitting between me on the stool. A benefactor brought one for each guest with their names engraved on little silver plates. Sweet! This group has evidently outgrown Solo cups and Sharpies. Who knew?

Man, I don't know what Suzanne is trying to prove here, but she got several other folks to try it too. They were equally as confused but good sports nonetheless. How about you? Stand right up and try it now. It'll be fun, I promise. Snicker.

We also ventured down to the beach. Here's where I will sing the praises of Suzanne's quick and agile grace. Sing! I encouraged her to walk right up to where the waves were breaking. She got us out just before the surf caught my toe. We're a good team, she and I.

I left the coolest track marks on the beach. No lie. My tracks are way cooler than any old sneaker or bare foot or dog or sandal or bird has ever left on the sand. I dare you to disagree.

Here I am all ready to get in the car and go home. We're waving our last goodbyes to the ocean. Until next time, ocean. Keep it real.

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