I'm Lame.

Lame, because I'm guilty of blogneglect. Sorry about that.

And also lame because of these beauties:










My new, sassy red with polka dot lining ballet flats.

They felt just a bit tight when I bought them, but nothing a few trial wears wouldn't fix. As I considered my calendar for Wednesday, I didn't see much walking. It appeared to be a good day to break in the Sassy Reds.

Then.

I ran late at work, and rather than take the subway to pick up the kids from day camp, I decided to trot the 10 or so blocks. It doesn't make sense that it's quicker to walk, but it is.

The kids and I had some time to burn before the birthday party we were attending, so we walked a few blocks to the candy store to beat all candy stores: Dylan's Candy Bar.

After Dylans, we walked down the steps to the subway, only to discover that because it was 80 trillion degrees with a bazillion percent humidity, all 8 million people in the city were running their air conditioners. This caused a brown-out, which in turn caused the 4,5,6 trains to stop running for an hour. We walked back up the steps.

We trundled to the bus stop located two blocks uptown, where a mini-mob had gathered because of the lack of the subways. The heat and the humidity and all the unproductive stair climbing had not made the mini-mob any happier. They were starting to act uncomfortably similar to a full-grown mob. The kids and I decided to try our luck at the next stop, three blocks north.

A mob awaited us there, as well.

We walked back down a block, and I stepped off the curb and attempted to hail a cab. I stood with my arm (intermittently) up in the air for 20 minutes. Not a single car stopped. They were all apparently busy with the multitudes of other stranded, sweaty folks lining the streets.

At this point, we were 30 blocks away from the birthday party site. I looked at Chloe and Jonathan and told them that we were going to have to walk--if they still wanted to go. Yes, they still wanted to go, so we set off.

10 blocks later, the verdict changed.

Chloe didn't want to go.
Jonathan did.

They both started to cry.

We were already 30 minutes late for the party.

My feet had either grown 2 sizes, or the shoes had shrunk 2 sizes (probably both), and I had some serious blisters that were asking for some attention.

It was starting to rain.

The time had come for an executive decision, and I am not one to shirk my duties.

Two crying kids in tow, I limped five blocks to the crosstown bus and hopped on.

2 hours (and no birthday parties) after leaving the kids' camp, we walked in our front door.