I Heart Target, Too

Target, my love. How you soothe me when I'm feeling down! It's boot frenzy here in the Pacific Northwest. My boss bought two pair last week, another co-worker bought one and yet another co-worker reportedly bought three pair (although I've yet to see proof of this). It makes me so green with envy, as, apparently, my deformed feet cannot be contained within any of this season's boots.

Yes, my deformed feet. The salesman kindly explained to me that I could practically step out of these cutie boots due to my heel being too narrow and flat in the back. Most of you out there have perfectly normal curved heels which cling to the boot and keep it on. Not me. I already knew my feet were comically long and narrow (the hubby dubs them "the skis"). Now I now my heel is misshapen. I may never get the pair of boots that are my due. And in my birthday month too!

This is where Target comes in: To ease my achy-breaky-bootless-scootin'-boogie heart, I took a trip to my favorite cheapspot. Yes, I know it's not a locally owned company. And, yes, I realize that it may appear that the three t's I bought violate my year without new clothes rule. But T-shirts are like underwear, and I ain't buying or wearing or even touching on the rack no used underwear. I haven't broken my resolution, really.

Instead, I was able to feel a lot better about myself. Apparently my boobs and shoulders don't share the same deformity of my foot, thus allowing the t-shirts to fit. I can't walk out, roll out, dance out of these babies.

Plus (and here is where the knitting comes in), Target, via my hubby, supplied me with fun, $1-a-skein yarn for guilt free experimentation, like Brynne. (You may recall he bought said yarn whilst I lay at home puking on the couch a few weekends ago, suffering from the same virus that felled him BEFORE Labor Day weekend, instead of during, like it did for me).

So, the verdict: Now, I'm no expert knitter. I've been casting on for about two years and I somehow squeaked through a Charlotte's Web and am close to finishing a Lucky. This little bit of nothing almost kicked my butt. I kept dropping stitches. Pick them up through this furzy yarn ain't no picnic. (Aside: I can use "ain't" as much as I want. That's what getting that Master's degree in English earned me). I'll only recommend this yarn to the truly broke. Or maybe someone suffering from the heartache of a failed shopping expedition.