What, pray tell, am I doing this week instead of providing extensive, contemplative posts about time theory or musing on the navel-gazing writers are prone to? Shopping for shoes, of course. RWA's National Conference is in two weeks, and as much as I hate to alienate myself among the fairer sex, I confess I dislike shoe shopping intensely. I might as well be seeking out Jimmy Choo Marine Flippers. They don't exist. Cute shoes are an urban myth for tall girls. A rare treasure, buried in the vast DSW ocean.
So while I swim from retail island to retail island, seeking out non-orthopedic soles and bling that doesn't look like a rock unearthed from my garden, enjoy this hump-day diversion.
Buck Tuddrussell (ladies, you can't use that for a hero name, it's mine now) is battling against time, literally. Travel with him through history and help him destroy the hourglasses. Why? Who cares? Time suck has no motivation.
How did you do?