Going Vanilla-mourning my online ID

Some of you may have seen my latest Facebook status of "Kay is Vanilla." I'll explain. Technology and things such as Facebook are a great thing. I love seeing updates of what everyone is doing, where they are going, and what they are thinking, but in my occupation, I have to be vanilla. What's vanilla? It means being the ultimate diplomat, not taking sides, or having strong opinions. In my job, I love connecting with a very wide array of people. What I try to do with them is try to find some sort of a connecting point (usually ministry related) and go from there to talk about deeper things that we can agree and disagree upon-because we already have an established relationship. But I have found when I put certain things up front (ie on Facebook), that it can scare away good dialog. So, I sterilized my Facebook account. Sorry friends. I will be back more on the blog now, to be my outlet of personality. I am not a great writer, but I appreciate my good friends on here who enjoy thinking about things together. I am forming more opinions as I get older, based on learning, community, and different experiences. So, thank you for those of you who I get to do this in person with...I appreciate you very much.

Shoe Size

Remember when you were a kid and your parents purchased shoes for you that were intentionally a size or so too big. It was no big deal because they were anticipating you would grow into them. And you always did. Until you grew out of them and then it was time to buy a new pair of shoes that were again too big.

What happened when you stopped growing, though? Where were you in that cycle of purchasing shoes?

It all started over Labor Day weekend while Kay and I were visiting friends out on Galveston Island, TX (pre-Hurricane Ike). My buddy Jeremy randomly asks me what size shoe I wear. I respond telling him size 10 roughly. (I've always been under the impression I was about size 9 in length, but size 10 in width). He laughs as if I just made a joke. "No seriously, what size shoe do you wear?" he asks again. I confirmed I really do wear size 10 shoes. He compares feet sizes in the sand with me (pointing out that my feet were just barely longer than his) and then announces that he wears a size 7.

Coincidentally, a few weeks later, Jeremy is visiting me in Pasadena, and I have to buy a pair of shoes for a wedding the next day. We were on our way to the beach, but stop in at a shoe store real quick so I can get a pair of dress shoes. Jeremy remembers our conversation in Galveston and asks if I've confirmed my shoe size. Of course not.

Slightly embarrassed, I ask the shoe salesman to measure my feet and tell me his size suggestion. And what does he say? Size 7. I must have looked shocked because he calls another salesperson over to give a second opinion. There we are, me, Jeremy, and two shoe salesmen looking at my feet. Ultimately, they conclude I'm a about a 7 in length but at least 7.5 in width.

Ultimately, I ended up getting a size 8.5 because I couldn't handle the emotional trauma of going from a 10 to a 7.5 in one day. As I've processed since, I've concluded that I must have purchased a size 10 in high school anticipating that my feet would be continuing to grow into them, but they never did and I just got used to the "roomy" feel.

So now, 13 years after I stopped growing, I'm learning how to buy shoes for myself all over again.