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Sandal season has finally arrived! We’re even forecasted to hit close to 80 way up here in the mountains. For my normal friends, this means a fabulous opportunity to hike, camp, backpack, bike, play on the lakes or simply be outside. But then there are my other friends…

The golfers.

Oh how they go on and on about handicaps, and backswings and bogeys and the angle of approach and bunkers and what not. Please. I may have been naïve back in the day, but I’m onto you golfers now. It’s all code for silly dancing.

My earliest understanding of golf was through my dad. He would announce that he was going to go watch golf, and my mom, brother and I would all say, “Good night!” Golf was code for naptime. I remember tiptoeing into the family room one time and actually watching for a few minutes. That’s all I needed to agree it was nap worthy.

But then a handful of years ago I was down in Florida with Shawn for a customer appreciation gathering through one of our work vendors. We were having a fine time until they announced that the next morning we’d be departing for a day at the golf course. I immediately began to calculate how I could sneak off to a beach instead, but guilt made me decide to play along.

It turned out this wasn’t just any old day of golf. They took us to The Players Championship at Sawgrass just outside of Jacksonville where the PGA headquarters are.  Tiger Woods!  Phil Mickelson!  Rory Sabbatini!  Lots of other names that people were all excited about that I’d never heard of! (Hey I knew “Tiger” so give me a little credit.)

I had resolved to spend the day completely bored, but the course was beautiful so I plodded along to witness the golf craze over on the 17th hole.  On this particular hole the players had to hit from one side of a pond onto an island thingy.  And that is when it got all fun!  And I fell in love because of the dance!

See here’s the thing. Just before a golfer is allowed to hit a ball they must do a dance.  Seriously.  Have you seen this?  Do they show that part on TV? They take a few practice whacks at the air and then they carefully approach the golf ball.  This is where the dance takes place.  They get themselves all lined up just so and then they stomp their feet in a little left right left right dance move.  It’s so cute!  Every time they did it I got all warm and fuzzy and happy on the inside.

So you line up the ball, you step back, you test the air, you approach, you kneel down and survey the distance, you attack the air with your club, you do the stompy dance, you finally hit the damn ball, and then you stare off into the distance while the crowd either ooooooohs or ahhhhhhs or awwwws (I never knew which I should do, it’s not like you can see the ball after they’ve hit it).

Then, when it’s all said and done the crowd collectively stares at the TV. The PGA people have these mega sized screen TV’s at every hole so that they can list the stats – because not even the players know what happened to that ball they just smacked.

At first I thought the people with a + were winning.  It turns out that positive is negative and negative is positive.  Silly golfers.  So in my head the negatives were doing a happy dance stomp and the positives were doing a mini temper tantrum stomp.

So there you have it.  Golf 101 with Wendy. Watching golf = napping. Going golfing = stompy dance with SILENCE (I learned this the hard way) and very serious expressions. Got it?

Be sure to let me know in the comment section if there are any others things I can educate you on. I’m here to help. Happy sandal season friends!


So I’m thinking there should probably be some sort of Grand Opening type blog seeing as how it’s been 7 years since the old blog and such? I mean it’s not like a whole lot has changed in that time. Lessee here, what is there to even say about that…

Oh yes. My grandson was born (he’s now 6):

jaden kindergarten

I went back to school and finally finished my bachelors degree (that’s my dear Gram with me. Sadly, she passed away this last year):


HWSNBN proposed and shall forever on be known as Shawn:


We adopted 2 adorable dogs:


I temporarily lost my mind and went brunette:


We accidentally bought a house in Colorado:

colo house

We began our new life in a very small mountain town in CO:

colo small town

My very bestest, most favorite friend Krista agreed to be my Maid of Honor (she also happens to be my daughter):


Shawn and I actually got married:


We honeymooned in Ireland:


And most recently I turned my back on corporate America to become a personal trainer again. So just the same old same old, you know?

How’ve you been?

It’s not that I’ve completely stopped writing. A few things have snuck out in the form of lists on Facebook and those have been added to the blog if you’d like to take a look. Most of the old blogs are on the new site as well, but pay no attention to the order that they are (not) in, K? Oh! And please be sure to become a fan of Just Send Shoes on Facebook and Twitter so that we can connect there as well. And invite your friends! I need people to like me. OMG LIKE ME. See? I haven’t changed all that much ;)

But really. It’s time to write again. I’ve missed it, and I’ve missed having all of you to interact with through comments and messages. With so much time since the old blog I just didn’t know how to even start up again, but thanks to my amazing friend Matt Yonan (web man extraordinaire, crazy good with design, content, and high-tech fabulousness**), we now have this site where we can reconnect.

Thanks for coming by, and please…JUST SEND SHOES.


**I would like nothing more than to repay Matt for all of his help by referring new customers his way. If you or your company or your neighbor or that guy you used to like back in the day that you still stalk on Facebook are in need of any technical website assistance or design, I’d be happy to put you in touch with him**


Ever have one of those days where you wake up and just smile with joy at the fact that morning has arrived because YOU are fabulous and this day is YOURS and you just know that nothing could possibly go wrong and you are oh so beautiful and put together? 

Yeah, me neither.

But apparently I have managed to give off a vibe of perfect happiness because I received a message asking me why I am SO HAPPY ALL OF THE TIME.

After I finished laughing and shouting, “Because it’s Facebook!” at my computer, I decided I’d try to explain.

Let’s start with a completely made-up, fully fictitious, pretend type problem that may or may not happen in someone’s life. Like maybe you had a $40 dollar gift card for DSW that you’ve been holding on to and just as you go to use it you notice it’s expired. Or maybe you haven’t closed as many deals as you would have liked and another one just fell through. Or maybe you were looking at your budget and any chance of something new and cute and summery and strapless is now gone because you’ve been informed that your car needs new brakes. Or maybe all of those things happened on the exact same day and your husband is out of town and therefore unable to fully appreciate all of the different pout variations that you have perfected.

Well. This is certainly not happy making. So now what do you do? Post your woe and misery on Facebook? Would that really help? No. Obviously the correct answer is to make a list. So here you go:


1. Determine if you are in fact truly defeated. Can the situation be brushed off with a cookie or are we in full-on cake inhalation mode? If it’s the former, carry on with the cookie and perhaps a combination of pout variations #4 and #9. If it’s the latter, or if you are out of cookies at this extremely difficult moment, you should admit defeat and continue on to step 2.

2. Now that the situation has been properly categorized as cake worthy, it’s time to decide what to do about it. You can’t just crawl under the covers every time your extremely cute (and pink) excel spreadsheet calculates that it must be retitled to “Budget of Despair” instead of “Budget.” And to add insult to injury, you’re no longer in your 20s so eating the entire cake isn’t an option anyways. Go ahead and test out a stream of bad words (unless that just makes people laugh at you because you never actually swear so they just think it’s cute). Better? No? Moving on.

3. Consult the Supreme Scale of Suckage. In the grand scheme of things, is your current problem Amazingly Wretchedly Full Up Loathsome (AWFUL)? Or, bless your sweet soul, is it Super Outrageously Beastly & Atrociously Difficult (SO BAD)? Well, then you are surely entitled to your misery. But wait…

4. So many people out there are truly suffering. Isn’t it selfish to be so upset over this pretend problem (that may or may not have also included a broken nail, a puppy potty incident and a burnt dinner)?

5. Allow yourself to test out those swear words again. As if this fictitious day wasn’t bad enough, now you’re dealing with guilt too. Golly.

6. Give in to tears. In fact, give in to tears and pillow punching. The world is being mean to you and you deserve a good cry.

7. Decide that you feel a bit better, and head off to check the damage in the mirror. Collapse into a complete ball of defeat again. Now you’re miserable, AWFUL, SO BAD and look like a total train wreck.

8. Suddenly realize that you are in fact completely justified in being upset. It is, in fact, okay to not be SO HAPPY ALL OF THE TIME.

9. Recognize that you have just landed an ENORMOUS victory. YOU have determined that you are allowed to be upset. You win! Obviously, this completely trumps your earlier defeat!

10. Stomp off all victorious and have a really great super happy day. After all, it might even annoy someone on Facebook, and that’s kinda happy making too.


So the good news is that I’ve finally figured out how to chop onions without crying! The bad news is that this is what the little girl from down the street saw when she knocked on my kitchen door to try to sell something. I’d tell you what it was, but she ran away before I could find out.


Final thoughts just before I fell asleep…

I’m so going to kill that insanity DVD in the morning. Calories are going to be burning all over the place. Of course I’ll have coffee first. I should start a load of laundry too. Maybe I’ll get up 20 minutes earlier. That way I can have all that done, shower, and have breakfast ready for Shawn when he gets up. He’ll spend his entire drive to Denver thinking about how lucky he is to have such an amazing wife.

The way the morning actually played out…



My earliest memory of church is all the proof I need to know that I’m not very good at churching – it was sneaking across Hwy 7 during the service with a friend (here’s looking at you Tiff) to go to McDonald’s instead of going to Sunday school. Combine that with being told that “A pregnant girl walking through confirmation would just be too awkward,” and you might not be surprised to know that I just stayed away.

I thought about going back many times over the years but I was always left with the same thought, “It’d be too awkward.”

Today? Today I make a poor lil church in Colorado put up with me. Today I embrace my awkwardness. After all, it’s part of why some of you read my posts, right? And so without further adieu, having spent the last 2 years back in church, I give to you: My top 10 awkward churchings (and yes I’ve decided that’s a word):

1. After a failed search for some verse we were supposed to be reading in the book of Acts I piped up, “My bible doesn’t have that book.” My husband just shook his head.

2. After singing some weird hymn about Jacob and climbing his ladder I emailed the pastor: “Who the heck is Jacob and why are we climbing his ladder?” He actually answered me.

3. I attend another gathering where we sometimes close with the Lord’s Prayer followed by, “Keep coming back! It works if you work it!” Out of habit I shouted this after the Lord’s Prayer while at church. I got some interesting looks.

4. I still prefer to start that prayer using my daughter’s version, “Our father, who does art in heaven…”

5. Our church has normal Sunday services but they also offer a Tuesday night service where the sermon is presented in a discussion format and we all get to share our thoughts. That’s the one we attend. I’ve gotten very good at just squirming a bit and biting my tongue, but sometimes questions accidentally sneak out. It turns out the Holy Ghost is not referring to Jesus being haunted.

6. I was asked by an acquaintance that attends a different church if my church had admonished me for my past. With a straight face I responded, “Why no! There are lots of us there who became grandmothers before our first marriage.” She just said, “Oh!” nodded a bit, and walked away quickly.

7. We typically light candles at the end of the service and state our prayer requests. I often light an extra one without saying what it’s for. It’s for my animals. That’s normal, right?

8. We recently read about some biblical dudes who lived to be 900 and some odd years. So far I have resisted the temptation to ask how that was possible and if they had Botox back then or just looked hideous.

9. Last week during the children’s portion of the sermon, our pastor was discussing beliefs. He asked the littles what belief was and then he asked his own daughter if there’s anything she believes in. She responded, “Sparkly barrettes!” Suddenly I understood why he puts up with me.

10. It was communion day. I had no idea what to do so I just followed everyone else. When I get nervous my mouth gets dry and as a result the bread had trouble going down. Suddenly a horrific thought came to my mind: “I have Jesus stuck in my teeth.” Are you allowed to have thoughts like that in a church?

Lightening has yet to strike. So I keep going back. Maybe you should too.


Dad always yells, but mom just takes pictures.


The new shoe closet is coming along nicely! Oh, and proof that I really don’t have as many as everyone thinks!



You think you know a person. You think, that after nearly 9 years of building trust, loyalty and respect that you can allow yourself to feel safe…to feel secure. That the man you have pledged and vowed before God and country to love for your entire life would never turn on you. And then it happens:

“Wendy, you’re going to have to move your shoes upstairs. You can’t have the entire closet.”

It is a dark day, friends. A dark day indeed.