Black Shoes and Blue Skies

People:
The shoe insanity continues.
If you have no idea what I'm speaking of, read my previous entries.
My black shoe is still missing. Gone. I have looked everywhere. It no longer exists. I am accusing my friends, Dana and Heather. They both plead innocence. The only thing I can get out of them is that Dana says that the shoe felt like "going to the city."
Is that supposed to be some kind of a clue??!!!
So, until I can find the other black shoe, I am stuck wearing my sparkly, green shoes. Which is no bad thing, either.
But today, another shoe thing happened.
I was innocently walking to my car to go to the eyedoctor at noon today, when I spied something very odd on the hood of my car. As I got close, I realized that it was a pair of black velvet wedge shoes with a huge bow on them. Yes, people. Someone had thrown a pair of shoes onto my car hood. And even worse, some designer thought it was a good idea to start putting huge bows back onto shoes.
I am shocked. And I am laughing. And I am feeling torn because these shoes have a great wedge heel but a disgusting bow. And they are a size too big.
So, these shoes just might show up again sometime. For now they live in the passenger seat in my car. I am trying to decide if I can find a way to like them and make them fit.
Non-sequitor...
Here's something that annoys me: people who decide to have a visiting session very loudly right in my immediate work area--to the point where I cannot hear myself think or my phone ring or the sound of my fingers clattering across the keys. I do not relate to extreme extroverts. I think they should all be put on an island together so they can all extrovert together and leave the rest of us in peace.
Anyway, aside from loud people and shoe incidences, things are looking up here in good ol' North Dakota. Because today I can clearly see something I have been noticing for a few weeks--the color of the sky is changing. To blue. Slowly. This means spring is here.
If you don't live in a northern climate, you cannot possibly understand that weight of a statement like this. Spring is like a religion here. Seriously, I understand why a person could be a pagan and worship nature--when you have been stuck in a wood box all winter with only white to look at, and suddenly the sky changes, the wind changes, the ground changes, the animals change, and it is spring.
About this time in the area where I grew up, aka the most beautiful place on earth--SW North Dakota (you scoff, you disbelievers, but you have no idea), my mom and sister and I would often walk out onto the prairie to pick crocuses. It's weird. Everything else is the same color of dry crusty brown grassness, but every now and then, here and there, you will find this most wonderful little optimistic splash of purple. We would pick bags and bags of those things. I found out recently that they are actually called pasqueflower, and that they are a symbol of both the resurrection and the trinity. I love symbols. To commemorate this memory, when my husband and I renovated our living room this winter and put in a fireplace, I added some pasqueflower accent tiles. Maybe that was just me subliminally wanting the liberty of the prairies full of the mirth of these flowers.
All I need to have now is the smell of spring in the air....and I will be completely free.