Benito, the master cobbler in Sunnyvale California revived my favorite shoes.
The shoes had been scrapped, scratched by walking on cobble stone streets on the East Coast.
The cobble stone streets of Boston and Washington DC are beautiful to look at for but terrible women’s shoes. The pointy heels fall into the cracks, and either you, the wearer fall, or if you drag your foot up and out you scrap the shoe heel.
It’s very strange how an email from a younger friend inspired me to write a post about those cobbled streets of Georgetown.
My younger friend has light brown hair and baby blue eyes, fair skin w some freckles, w the classic Welsh/Irish look. But she is 1/4 Chinese. I’ve taken her on as my younger sister. There are just some people that I draw inspiration from their quiet mysteries.
She wants to live in the parries, wear cowboy boots, and love a blue-collar man who works with his hands.
She does’t have any attractions for men with big wallets, big power, big jobs, or big DC ambitions.
It’s a nice, gorgeous email that inspired a post about a magic cobbler in Sunny California.