I need a “Boot-of -the-Month” club. You know, one that operates kind of like health insurance — everybody pays in so much – except you get a new pair of boots every month instead of a trip to the doctor.
I love boots — all kinds of boots — tall and short boots, cowboy boots, work boots, shoe boots. Lovely leather boots. ❤
I think I’m addicted. No – I know I’m addicted. I can’t get enough.
I’m all jelly legs upon walking into a boot store. I won’t say that I need an intervention. I don’t want an intervention. If I’m wrong, I don’t wanna be right.
How can loving boots even be wrong?
I enter contests on Facebook all the time – “like, share and stand on your head while eating a banana, and you’re in to win!” Yeah, well I’m still waiting. That’s why I need a Boot-of-the-Month club.
If I ever decided to go bad and turn to a life of crime, my specialty would probably be holding up boot stores. There I would be, armed with a potato masher and a pop gun demanding the loot – give me all your Fryes and Old Gringos and nobody gets hurt.
I don’t know how or even when my boot obsession started. Maybe it was the influence of old cowboy shows like Gunsmoke and Bonanza. I never wanted to be the girl in the saloon waiting for her hero to ride into town – I wanted to ride the open range with Little Joe and Hoss, tending to the cattle, eating beans off a tin plate, singing by the campfire and wearing cowboy boots. Ahhh, that would be the life.
Now I’ve got to figure out a way to pay for my obsession, since there are no boot insurance plans. I need to start a boot fund.
If anybody feels inclined to donate, I’ll be glad to provide you with the name and address of my favorite boot outlet. I’ll just have them set up a running tab in my name.
Brother can you spare a boot?