No ... Thank YOU

As those of you who follow my blog know, turning Fabulous Shoe Night from an idea into a workable vehicle to help charities has kept me very busy during the past few months. We have long-range goals we've been working toward, bit by bit, every day, and are sometimes able to discern the baby steps of our slow but steady progress. Being so focused on the "big picture" can have it's drawbacks, though … and I have come to realize that my myopia can occasionally cause me to miss the forest while looking through the trees.

We at Fabulous Shoe Night have big plans for our future. Big. Really big. But in my mind's eye, and deep within my heart … I have even bigger plans that I have revealed to precious few. Impossibly big. To quote Steve Jobs, "Make a dent in the universe" kind of big. 

So when I received a note, quite unexpectedly, telling me how one of our FSN events made a positive impact on the life of a young woman battling cancer, far from home, it helped hone and redefine the importance of continuing to help in our own backyard … regardless of whatever huge vision we may have.

Below is the note I received from an oncology nurse at a local hospital. 

"I am contacting you to express gratitude to you on behalf of one of my patients who is a newly diagnosed Breast cancer survivor. She is from South America and speaks little English. You may not even be aware that through a contribution that you gave Debbie Price, from Lovely You, this patient received a beautiful long dark hair wig and some cotton caps. From the money you gifted Debbie, she graciously gave me 10 additional caps. Debbie has been donating to me for the past 3 years, lightly used wigs or wigs that were donated to her from family members that have lost the battle to this disease.  However, this was a 30 year old who had just lost all her hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes.

And this is only the beginning.  She is receiving chemo before her surgery just to shrink the tumor in hopes that the surgery will be less traumatic. She is here staying with family members but her husband is still in South America. She came to me in tears with her father. Her husband was due here in a week and she wanted to look the best she could for him. When I showed her what I had, nothing caught her eye. She went home with nothing and I simply prayed for a divine intervention! This came to me via Debbie with help from your boutique fundraiser. 

When she came to see me a few days later, I gave her the box with a long, hip, dark brown, straight haired wig. Both she and her father were so happy.

The fact is, at my hospital, many patients are under insured or not insured at all. Many of them don’t even ask for things like this that many take for granted. But it is angels like you and Debbie that appear when life has handed another human being this devastating cross to bear. 

Again thanks for your act of Kindness!!"

FSN is new. We are making things up as we go along, to the best of our ability. While we have had some unbelievably successful events, not every event is a blockbuster … sometimes things like weather, time of year, etc., keep people home. And sometimes, the results have been a bit less than what we had hoped for. This is particularly devastating when we are working to raise money for people who have been dealt especially cruel blows from life … like a cancer diagnosis, or an accident that forever changes the life of a child.

But … we keep going. With our focus on that long-term vision we  share, we just keep going.

And the letters of thanks we receive …? They aren't necessary, or even something we ever imagined we'd receive ...

They're just unexpected, glittering jewels we occasionally find strewn across our path, making it easier to keep moving forward ... more determined than ever.

And we are thankful for them.

Momentum

I never would have guessed that my (thankfully!) brief interaction with the "mean girls" at an upscale area boutique would be so abundant in lessons (as well as blog material!), but I've come to realize that when a lesson is truly learned, the Universe responds by sending rich rewards. 

My main concern in canceling a Fabulous Shoe Night event at that boutique was that it would inadvertently halt the seemingly self-propelled forward momentum FSN has seen to date. Response to the concept has been so overwhelmingly positive that sometimes I have to pinch myself … so, after canceling, I was nervous at having virtually no future events scheduled. 

But again, my intuition began nudging me  … and this time, I listened. As I've watched Fabulous Shoe Night grow, it has become clear that this growth has all been organic … meaning that nothing was ever forced. Serendipity has played a huge role in our progress, and my gut was telling me to just to let things progress on their own. So, I did something that, well … does not come naturally me. I was patient.

Not patient as passive … I still worked, every day, to get FSN heading in the direction of my long-range vision … I just didn't push things too hard, trusting instead that things did, and would continue to, happen in their own time … when that timing was right.

Remarkably, I didn't have long to wait.

Within a week of canceling with the "mean girls," I was contacted by two boutiques and two restaurants about doing Fabulous Shoe Nights. As if that wasn't exciting enough, it was so refreshing to see that the people involved truly "got" the FSN concept. They were excited about raising money for charities near and dear to their hearts, and their eyes and faces virtually lit up when discussing who their Fabulous Shoe Night event would benefit. There's nothing more gratifying than working together with enthusiastic, compassionate people to benefit a deserving cause, and then actually making a difference. It's like a drug, really … and the addiction seems to be contagious. 

Fabulous Shoe Night now has several events scheduled in the coming weeks, and we have more irons in the fire stretching out into the New year. Looking back, I feel almost silly now that I was so worried about canceling an event with that little, snooty, inconsequential boutique … particularly given the location, instant name recognition and prestige of where our second Fabulous Shoe Night charitable event was held just last week. 

Oh, wait …. you mean I didn't tell you??

Bloomingdale's!

I can't wait to see where our heels take us next … !

A Most Important Cause

While Fabulous Shoe Night continues to grow and flourish, we have had to modify some things to accommodate our changing needs. That sounds better than, say … we're making things up as we go along, but, actually … we are. 

I had first intended that our FSN monthly Girl's Nights Out  would benefit a different local charity each month, figuring it was a way to help many in our own backyard. But, this is a new concept, and we're learning as we go along. Since the restaurant where we hold our GNO's can only donate from the food portion of our bill, and are donating 10% at this point, I felt it wasn't making a big enough impact. As most of the members of Fabulous Shoe Night feel with the height of our heels, our thinking is "go big or go home," and that includes money donated to charity. So I made an executive decision and decided that, for our first year, FSN Girl's Nights Out would benefit the same local charity in order to be able to donate more money, thereby making a bigger impact. The charity we chose fell in my lap, thanks to the suggestion of my wonderful friend Robin.

Lately you can't turn on the TV or radio, browse the Internet, or pick up a newspaper without hearing about the heartbreaking story that has come out of Penn State, and now Syracuse University. So when Robin told me about the Family Support Line, in Media, I was eager to get Fabulous Shoe Night involved. 

Family Support Line is a non-profit organization offering "specialized services that prevents child sexual abuse and cares for children and families who have experienced this trauma." They were established in 1984, when a mother seeking support for her daughter called attention to the need for the support of families with a child who has been sexually abused. Surely, with the secrecy and shame associated with childhood sexual abuse, such support for the entire family is vital. 

Yes, the cause is timely, with all the horrific details emerging daily on the news, but … I honestly can't think of a better organization to donate regularly to during our first year than one that protects the very innocence of children. 

So while our social Girl's Night Out concept has piqued the interest of many for it's pure fun-factor, we get the most satisfaction in that by simply gathering together with friends each month, in our fab shoes, (something we would absolutely do anyway) … it's actually making a difference. That is what I'm most proud of. I love that. Love it.

But … the best part is … we're just getting started. Can you just imagine the possibilities??

Something So Simple

Every time I've ignored a gut reaction, I've regretted it, so I don't know why I thought this time would be any different. Ultimately, it wasn't, but I think I nipped what could have been a disastrous situation in the bud. Lesson learned.

My last blog post relayed the story of a not-so-nice sales clerk I dealt with while trying to promote Fabulous Shoe Night at an area boutique. The initial meeting did not go well, and I left with a distinctly bad feeling …  it was abundantly clear these people just didn't "get" the Fabulous Shoe Night concept.  FSN is not about how many pairs of high-end designer shoes you own, but rather about helping people. So I was frankly shocked when, more than a week later and seemingly out of the blue, I received a phone call telling me they wanted to host a Fabulous Shoe Night after all. Wanting the event to take place, I convinced myself that I misjudged them. I worked really hard to convince myself of this. Really, really hard.

Yet still, the bad feeling lingered. I was ignoring the little nudges of my intuition that any type of a partnership with this boutique was going to be difficult at best, but I was determined to go through with it, unpleasantries and all, to gain further exposure of the FSN brand. But … at what cost?  I've often felt that when Life is trying to teach you a lesson, the same issue will present itself again and again until you finally get it, and, if you continue to ignore it, you will be presented with a proverbial smack in the head, something so jarring and obvious that it will be virtually impossible to ignore any longer. I've experienced this exact pattern often enough in my own life, yet still I  forged ahead, against my better judgement and willfully ignoring the ever-increasing nudges of my intuition … which were growing distinctly sharper with each interaction I had with this boutique staff.

While  negotiating the terms of the simple, straight-forward business contract I presented to them, they were haughty, condescending, demanding, and at times, almost mocking. I felt I was, literally, caught between a rock and a hard place. In an attempt to keep the event on track, I tried to stay focused on two things … I really wanted to help  their charity of choice, and I also wanted to get the Fabulous Shoe Night name out to their customer base. This was business, right? Just suck it up, deal with the mean girls, and, in the end, be proud that FSN helped another charity.

But, again … at what cost? Dealing with these women was so difficult. The more I tried to compromise, the more unreasonably demanding and mean they became, at one point going as far to ask me, "Really … who do you think you are??"  (This was because of a point in my contract asking that they get an insurance rider, for one night, so if any of their customers drank too much wine that night, FSN wouldn't get sued. I know, I know … how incredibly selfish of me!) 

It was then that the Universe dealt me my long overdue smack in the head … in the form of a sweet, thoughtful and totally unexpected email. 

It came from a young woman living nearby who was diagnosed last year with a disease that resulted in alopecia. She is now almost completely bald … and in her early 20's. Wigs are expensive, and she bought one with the hope of purchasing another in the future. When she went back to Lovely You to browse wigs, she was offered a substantial financial gift toward the purchase of her second wig … a direct result of the money raised at our first Fabulous Shoe Night held at Sorella Boutique in Media.

My eyes flooded with tears as I read her email, and suddenly, everything made perfect sense. I got to work immediately. Within minutes I drafted an email to the boutique, canceling the event altogether, politely telling them that I didn't feel "our goals were in synch." Clearly, they weren't. Perhaps I was putting FSN back a few steps in order to gain the right kind of forward momentum in the future, but my instincts were literally screaming that any kind of association with this boutique would be detrimental. I'd much rather we stay stationary for a time, waiting for the right kind of people to move forward with, than damage the vision and integrity of Fabulous Shoe Night for mere exposure. 

The next email I sent was a thank you note to the young woman who unknowingly provided me with that much-needed wake up call. My desire to grow FSN and help ever more charities clouded my judgement, and caused me to veer dangerously off-track. It took something as simple as a thank you note to steer me back on course. I am beyond convinced that if we remain pure of heart and true to our intent to be a vehicle to help charities, Fabulous Shoe Night will effortlessly gain all the "exposure" we need. I see it happening, seemingly of it's own accord, nearly every day. 

Going forward, thanks to my wake-up call, I have more clarity and focus about how to proceed as Fabulous Shoe Night grows. But, as anything grows, some things have to be modified in order to accommodate changing needs. 

So … we have added an addendum.

Mean girls need not apply.

Just Keep Swimming ...

Coming off such a successful Fabulous Shoe Night charitable event at Sorella Boutique in Media last month makes me, actually … a bit nervous. This is such a new and unique concept, so I think it's only natural to wonder if I can pull it off again.

I don't know … 

Can I??

Unfortunately, there's only one way to find out, and that's by knocking on doors, asking other area shops and boutiques if they, too, would like to host a Fabulous Shoe Night to benefit the charity of their choice. Despite the overwhelmingly positive reaction I get when and wherever I explain the FSN concept, I still get jittery when it comes to asking.

I started my quest at one of the Main Line Philadelphia area's premiere boutiques, located about 40 minutes away from my home. Since they are so fabulous, and since I never fail to get comments and compliments on them, I decided to wear my lucky cowboy boots that were the catalyst for the entire Fabulous Shoe Night concept. 

As I walked into the boutique, a place I had never shopped before, I was greeted by a pretty, stylish woman about my age, who immediately zeroed in on my boots. (Yes … they really are that fabulous!) Inwardly smiling that my subtle, harmless manipulation had worked, I thought how easy this was going to be. After a few minutes of browsing, we began chatting,  and I told her and another clerk about my purpose for the visit. The first clerk, whom I'll call Mary, immediately understood the concept, as well as what it could mean for sales at the store and the owner's pet charity, and was very enthusiastic. The other woman was older, and unfortunately had the snooty demeanor of the sales clerk who shamed Julia Roberts out of her store when she was dressed as a prostitute in "Pretty Woman." Lets's call her Brunhilde. In fact, she had the same gaunt appearance and haughtiness as the mean clerk in the movie, but I didn't want to be judgmental, so I focused my attention equally between the two. A few more seconds into my pitch and it became painfully obvious that she didn't like …the concept …? My boots …? Me …? She looked distinctly bored as I was explaining the FSN concept, while Mary chattered on excitedly what fun their customers would have. They told me the owner was due in shortly, so I decided to try a few things on while I waited.

The store was packed with wonderful merchandise, so I got to work looking around. But … have you ever had one of those "off" shopping days, where nothing seems to really work? I just didn't love the things I was trying on … and, at those prices, I wanted to love whatever I bought. While Mary was busy with another customer, Brunhilde held up a mustard colored ponte knit sheath dress. The color was, frankly, awful, and I politely told her it was "not me." She kept urging me to try it on, telling me it looks fantastic "on everyone." Ugh … whatever.

True to my instincts, I did not like the dress on me. I felt it made me look wide in the hips/thigh/abdomen area …. not a look any woman aspires to, so I couldn't wait to get it off. I normally wear between a size 4 or 6, but, for some reason, it just wasn't flattering on me … at all. Just as I began to unzip the back zipper, Brunhilde called for me to come out of the dressing room and show her how it looked.  I pulled back the curtain and told her my concerns with the fit. She said, loudly, her voice seeming to echo throughout the shop, "I couldn't agree more. I'm agreeing with you! Take that off, right now! Get it off!" 

 And here I was worried about my sales pitch of the Fabulous Shoe Night concept?? 

Not exactly feeling the love, I decided to leave my card and ask that the owner of the boutique call me if she wanted to learn more. Feeling dejected on my ride home, I began questioning the viability of the FSN concept, as well as my ability to "sell" it. Yet, any time feelings of self-doubt creep in, there is a spark that remains, refusing to be extinguished. I believe in this. I believe in this with every fiber of my being, and I know that once we get this truly off the ground, FSN has the capability to raise a lot of money for charities. That thought is what keeps me going when I begin to doubt myself, and even the concept itself. This is going to work … as long as I "just keep swimming," like the character Dorie sings in one of my favorite movies, "Finding Nemo."

I was able to shake the feelings of dejection after a few days, and realized I had to pull up my boot straps (on my fabulous new Lucky Brand boots!), and continue to knock on doors. Then, while in the middle of driving one of my sons somewhere, my phone rang. It was Mary, telling me that the owner of the boutique was "very eager" to hold a Fabulous Shoe Night event at her store. Could I come in later that week to discuss details and possible dates? 

Wow …. really? 

Like Dorie, who had to learn to steer clear of  stinging jellyfish while she just kept swimming, remaining focused on her goal, I have learned that I need to keep clear of the Brunhildes of the world.

And the color mustard yellow.

There is No Crying in Fabulous Shoe Night

All throughout the genesis and planning of the Fabulous Shoe Night concept, I have been eager to basically just hurry up and start helping people already. Having to wait to do so until the (boring! mundane! God-awful!) legalities could be put in place was like Chinese water torture to me, because, as anyone who knows me will tell you, I am not very patient. So I should have been thrilled and happy last Thursday night, the evening of our first fund raising event, that what I had been waiting for, planning for, wishing for all these months was finally here, right?

Nope. Not even close.

Instead I was a bewildering blend of self-doubt and certainty. I was certain … positive! … that no one would show up. Certain that the entire concept was a stupid idea. What was I thinking …?? A women's social group combining shoes and charity??  Ridiculous!! A little voice would occasionally interrupt (I like to think it was the voice of reason) and whisper that if it were truly a stupid idea, I wouldn't have so many wonderful, intelligent, busy people offering their time and talent to help make my "folly" a reality. Only problem was ... it didn't interrupt often enough. In the mental tug-of-war between self-doubt and reason, self-doubt was clearly ahead.

Sorella Boutique, here in my hometown of Media, PA, was hosting the first ever Fabulous Shoe Night charitable event. Guests were invited to wear their most fabulous shoes, and enjoy wine, champagne and appetizers as they shopped. 20% of sales from the evening would go to deserving clients of Lovely You, a shop catering to the special needs of women enduring the ravages of chemotherapy and/or radiation, offering wigs, head scarves and comfort care products … as well as emotional support. I couldn't think of a better  group to help for our first event, and my panic rose anew … I didn't want to fail these women.

The closer the hour got to the event, the more doubt crept in, all but 

obliterating any voice of reason. I needed reinforcements. I had already pestered my husband enough during the day … so I called Jeff. He has that Yoda-like quality that imparts calm and wisdom during my frequent bouts of panic. Thank God he picked up. After patiently listening to my verbal and emotional tsunami, clearly hearing the impending tears in my voice, he succinctly said, "There is no crying in Fabulous Shoe Night."  As I tried to protest, he stopped me again, knowing I hadn't really heard him. "No … listen to me. There is NO crying in Fabulous Shoe Night. People will come, it's going to be great. Just go and do it. Call me tomorrow." 

Oh … ! Well … that was quick. Humph. Having no other choice, I squared my shoulders and sighed, brushing away one last tear. Okay, then … let's do this.

Through my panic, I couldn't help but notice as I walked through the door at Sorella that the atmosphere was … festive. Char, the owner, and her staff were excited, happily relaying that they had been answering calls all day from women inquiring about the event. 

Despite my fear of no one showing up, women began to slowly trickle in, some in groups, others alone. I walked around, talking to each of them about what Fabulous Shoe Night was all about, and my goals and hopes for the future. Everyone seemed very receptive to the idea, and not a single person confirmed my fear that it was a "stupid" idea. Quite the opposite, actually … they loved it. I slowly began to relax. 

At one point I stood back and just observed, visually trying to drink in everything that was going on. I noticed something I hadn't counted on … in fact, never even thought of;  a growing sense of sisterhood became evident. There was an energy in the air that you could actually feel. They got it. A group of women came together on that rainy Thursday night to help other women, women they don't know … and will likely never meet. But we all knew we were there in silent support of these women going through their own personal Hell called cancer. We were happy to be there, and that positive energy we all felt was both unifying and unmistakably up-lifting.

By the end of the night, I was mentally drained, but feeling buoyant enough to go out for a celebratory drink with Char and my friend Patty. We exceeded our goal for the night … exceeded it. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it. When I think that the money we raised that night may help a woman going through chemotherapy get a wig instead of the head scarf she thought she had to settle for … I feel buoyant all over again. That's what we're all about. That's the spirit of Fabulous Shoe Night I intended all along … women coming together for a fun night out, all wearing our most fabulous shoes, helping to make the world a better place … unified. 

Every time I think about it, my eyes fill with tears. Happy tears.

Let's do this.

Who ... Me? Networking .... ??

I was lucky enough to attend the "Women on the Move" luncheon given by Main Line Today Magazine last month, as two of my friends were honored. I was going for the fun, and to support my friends, yet a lot of people told me it would be a great networking opportunity to get the word out about Fabulous Shoe Night. 

Oh … I never really thought of it that way.

Networking is not something that comes naturally to me, as I've never had to do it. Before my entry into full-time Mommy-hood, I was a nurse, and, unless you had administrative aspirations, you just did your job and collapsed at the end of each shift. Simple enough. The same with motherhood … do your "job," and pretty much collapse at the end of each day … hoping that when your head hit the pillow it actually was the end of your day. Sure, there are always those Mommies in any neighborhood, pre-school playground, etc. that try to cozy up to the "popular" Mom … but, if you want to get technical, they're actually social climbing, not networking. Not something to aspire to.

So, I went to the luncheon with some new terminology swimming about my head … I wasn't just there to support my friends, I was also there to "network" and "make contacts." 

Okay. 

Ummm …. okay. 

For those of you who may not know me personally, did I mention that I'm shy? I am. For those of you who do know me, please stop giggling. I say that because, every time I mention what I feel to be my innate shyness to one of my friends, they always burst out laughing, at which point I usually stamp my foot in frustration while insisting that I really am shy. This is always followed by more laughter, then another foot stamp and a more emphatic "Really!!!" ... with perhaps a mild expletive thrown in. My wonderful friend Danel is a perfect example of this;  she burst into a fit of giggles when I once mentioned my shyness. The more I protested, the more (and harder) she laughed. Ten minutes later we just had to call a truce and agree to disagree … each confident that we were actually the right one.

Armed with the knowledge that I was there to harvest "contacts," I scanned the crowd nervously. How does one go about this networking, I wondered? Forgetting my mission, I soon became engrossed looking at all the women's shoes. Old habits die hard, I guess. Before I knew it, though, someone was complimenting me on my shoes. We got to chatting. One thing led to another, and before I had time to think about the answer, I was asked what it was I "did." My usual answer, "I'm a stay-at-home Mom … I have three sons," was on the tip of my tongue before I caught it. Instead, I answered, " I'm forming a women's social group combining fashion and charity for fabulous women … it's called Fabulous Shoe Night." Previously, my answer regarding full-time motherhood would be met by a myriad of reactions ranging from admiration to all-out pity, so I was unprepared for what came next. "Wow!! Really??! That sounds like so much fun! Tell me more!" Before I knew it, the one woman I was talking to had morphed into five. They all had questions for me. Someone tapped my shoulder and said there was someone on the other side of the room who wanted to meet me. Wait … wanted to meet  me?  Oh … okay.

By the end of the luncheon, I had a purse full of business cards, two lunch dates, and an offer to do PR. Oh, yeah … and an invitation to join a women's networking group.

Networking group, you ask?

Not to worry … I've got this networking thing covered. 

The (Too) High Price of Fashion ... (continued)

Part II: The Fall

The doorman grasped my elbow protectively as he guided me up the stairs and out of the storm. I thanked him profusely as he took my (useless) umbrella out of my hands and closed it with a practiced ease. "Bet you're glad to be out of that mess, huh?" he asked. Just this brief, pleasant exchange, combined with being out of the fury of Mother Nature and the other horrible events of the morning, made me feel … protected, taken care of. What a nice older gentleman! He saw I was in distress, soaked, stressed, and helped me. I loved this place. It was safe. I smiled at him gratefully, feeling the pink, happy glow of unexpected, caring interaction between two strangers. I was here. Mission accomplished. Now I could relax and enjoy the rest of my day.

Determined to shake off my rocky start, I straightened up, shook the remaining raindrops from my hair (careful  not to spray my new friend, the doorman, in the process), and wiped my face dry. I would worry about my shoes later, I thought, as I felt my toes sloshing around. I looked around the grand lobby of the Bellevue. A huge expanse of marble floor stretched before me, bustling with people and activity. Looking up, I took in the height of the atrium, flanked on all sides with upscale stores. Now comes the fun part. Shopping. Retail therapy was definitely in order.

I began to make my way to the ornate staircase at the far end of the lobby. Not four steps into it … it happened.  Time suddenly shifted into slow-motion as I felt one of my 4" heels slip on water on the marble floor … water that had traitorously  dripped from my own umbrella. My arms made a crazy backstroke motion in the air as I tried valiantly to maintain some sense of balance.  My left leg flew out in a grotesque split as I watched in a dazed, detached curiosity, as if it was happening to someone else. I crashed down onto my right knee-cap, hard. So hard it would ache for months afterward; the impact actually bruised the bone.  My body pitched forward as I landed on my belly. My arms flew out before me and the umbrella clattered noisily on the floor, the impact now amplified in the suddenly quiet atrium, drawing attention to my awkward gymnastics. Time switched yet again from slow-motion to a dead stop as I realized I was lying … literally belly-flopping … on the floor of the Bellevue.

No … the ground did not swallow me up, as I was wishing  it would. Why do sinkholes never happen where and when you want them to?

Time remained at a standstill as my eyes swept the lobby. It was suddenly, impossibly empty … I was the sole attraction. From my position on the floor, I scanned the upper levels of the atrium and staircase … all conversation, all activity stopped as everyone's eyes were now on me … still belly-flopping. No one stepped forward to help me. I heard a business man chuckle on one of the upper levels. The attendant at the Information Desk remained seated as he casually leaned forward to ask, seemingly unconcerned, if I was alright. I looked back toward the lobby … where was my friend, the doorman?? He was no where to be seen … probably helping some other woman in out of the rain. Bastard.

My face burned with hot shame as I tried to gracefully hoist myself up off the floor. My umbrella lay several feet from where I landed, and I limped over to retrieve it, my right shoe having landed somewhere else entirely. It took another minute (hour!) to find it. With both shoes now on, and with as much dignity as I could muster, I got up and took a few tentative steps, having lost all confidence in my ability to walk in public. Oh, yeah … and if I remembered correctly, I didn't have a stellar track record for driving so well over the past two days, either. Note to self: all forms of self-locomotion will be suspended until further notice.

Feeling like I was enveloped in a cloak of shame and embarrassment, I somehow made my way up the staircase as I abandoned my plans to shop and head right to the luncheon. No … I wasn't hungry, I just needed, desperately, to sit down. Maybe I could get a glass of wine? But then I thought better of it … I didn't want the garage attendant to smell alcohol on my breath when I confronted him about the low-hanging pipes that damaged my car as I ripped him a new one.

The lunch was uneventful and woefully predictable … rubber chicken amidst a table of strangers I wouldn't know today if I fell over them, too. I did notice, however, that I was the only one with limp hair and damp clothing; no doubt my table-mates hogged all the indoor parking at the Bellevue. I managed to make pleasant chit-chat and eyed their glasses of wine enviously as I made plans for escape. I needed to get out of there. I needed to go home.

I needed a nap. 

I needed a hug.

I needed a good cry.

The rain and wind hadn't let up at all as I trudged my way down Broad Street back to the garage. I resigned myself to being uncomfortably damp until I got home. I was met with indifference when I confronted the garage attendant about the damaging pipes. In my panic, I didn't even think to take photos of the pipes making actual contact with the roof of my SUV, so there was nothing to "prove." Being married to an attorney, I should have known better. Oh, well … just add that to the growing list of stupid things I did that day. And, of course I was told, "No, Ma'm … that's never happened before." Yeah … right. 

Ironically enough, the day's storm clouds really did contain a silver lining. That was the dark and stormy March night I met my friend Andrea out for dinner when we were complimented on our shoes. The night the idea for Fabulous Shoe Night took seed, and slowly started to grow. Looking back, I guess it was a good day after all. No, not just good … pivotal. Fateful. Even life-changing.

As far as the Joan & David black patent leather pumps with the 4" heel that played a part in my belly-flopping … no, they haven't been on my feet since. And the Bellevue …? 

Um, no .. I have not been back.

I hate that place. 

The (Too) High Price of Fashion

Part 1: The Trip

I've relayed, several times in this blog, that I often feel wildly out of my comfort zones as I try to make something tangible out of the Fabulous Shoe Night concept, and, along the way, I've made mistakes. I try to think of those mistakes as learning curves, but sometimes they were just flat-out blunders … smack yourself in the head "Duh!" moments. God … I hate those. But they happen, and when they inevitably do, the only thing to do is pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and carry on … 

… while pretending that nothing actually happened … 

… hoping like hell that no one noticed.

One occasion when I had to literally pick myself up off the floor happened early this year … at a time when I was consciously trying to expand my comfort zones. I was invited to a luncheon in Philadelphia at the Bellevue Stafford Hotel, the grand dame of Broad Street, right near City Hall. I don't often drive into Philadelphia alone (Comfort Zone Expander #1), but I had a new SUV equipped with both OnStar and GPS, so how hard could it be, really? The luncheon fell on a day of monsoon-like weather; winds whipping around at 30 MPH gusts with sideways rain … not ideal driving weather (Comfort Zone Expander #2). And did I mention I was still shaken after my first fender bender with my new car just two days earlier (Comfort Zone Expander #3)? I … seemingly effortlessly! ... scraped the entire left rear panel of my SUV on my girlfriend's unyielding mailbox. Estimated damage to vehicle; $3000. Estimated damage to mailbox; $0.

While getting ready that morning, I gave myself plenty of time for weather delays. Lucky for me, I thought, as I slipped on my favorite Joan & David black patent leather pumps with the 4" heel, I can park right at the indoor garage at the Bellevue. What a convenience on a day like this!

I forgot that the Philadelphia Flower Show was in town, an annual week-long event bringing thousands of people to the city. You can see where this is going … right?

So, there I am, bravely soldiering on against sheets of rain and gale force winds, dodging huge rain puddles as I make my way down I-95, safely cocooned in my modern day tank, with the soothing, genteel voice of the GPS guiding my every turn. See … I knew I could do this. I find the Bellevue in record time. Actually, I have an entire hour to spare. Great, I think … I can go shoe shopping at the upscale shops at the Bellevue! I sigh contentedly. This is turning out to be a wonderful day. I never dreamed facing your comfort zones head-on could be this …well, easy!

I prepare to turn left into the parking garage when I see my first obstacle of the day: the red lighted "Lot Full" sign. Oooo … I wasn't counting on this. This is not good. That's okay! I think, cheerfully reminding myself that I am in comfort zone expansion mode … On to Plan B! I circle around City Hall in search of another indoor garage, only to be met with more "Lot Full" signs … for blocks. And blocks. Sigh. And blocks. The once soothing voice of the GPS is now telling me at increasingly annoying intervals to "Make a legal U-turn," … over and over. Irrationally, I answer, "I can't!! I CAN'T !!!"  … hoping this will somehow shut her up. It doesn't. She smugly admonishes me  repeatedly despite my whining pleas for her to just shut up. To silence her annoying, robotic smugness, I turn the GPS system completely off, knowing that now (deep, cleansing breath) I am truly on my own (Comfort Zone Expander #4). Yet I know I'm close to the hotel, so really … how hard can it be?

I drive in circles, growing panicky, as I search for an indoor lot. I'm also becoming annoyed … this has really cut in to my shopping time. I finally spot a garage with available parking and pull in, breathing a sigh of relief. The garage is a city high-rise, and I am literally growing dizzy as I circle up and up. I worry in my dizzying ascent that I may scrape the already battered side of the SUV on the narrow walls of the spiral lane, inwardly questioning my decision to buy one of the largest vehicles on the road. Floor L, Floor M, Floor N … yes! Finally! 

A huge, wide available spot that's perfect for my SUV on Floor O. I say a silent prayer of thanks and now can't help but feel a bit smug myself … I still have 40 minutes left to shop. I swiftly pull in, plenty of room on either side of me, when I hear it … that sickeningly familiar, stomach-dropping sound. The sound I had just heard two days earlier. A sound I was not ready to hear again … the long, drawn out, nightmare-inducing squeal of metal on metal … SCHREEEECH!! Palms sweating, I hold back tears as I back up … only to hear it again … SCHREEECH!!! The physiologic manifestations of sheer and utter panic rip through my body as I get out to find the source of that sound. I immediately see the culprit … horizontal overhead pipes hanging directly over my parking spot, with exposed bolts sticking out viciously like thorns. Was there a "Low Clearance" sign to be seen? No. Of course not. The pipes created deep gauges in the roof of my SUV, and actually moved the roof rack. In my panicked state, I didn't even think to take pictures with my iPhone … I just went in search of another parking spot, sobbing incoherently on the phone to my husband.

In the re-telling of this story many times since it happened, I was invariably asked, "Why didn't you just leave??" Sigh. Looking back … I'm not sure. I think I really was hell-bent on charging past some of the self-imposed restrictions of my comfort zones. Sometimes the act of busting out of your complacency takes nothing less than full audience participation. What good would running away do? No. I was there … I came all that way. Might as well go to the damn lunch. Panic makes me hungry anyway.

After finding what had to be the last remaining spot in the garage on the upper-most level, I brace myself to walk the 4 blocks to the Bellevue in the monsoon. I felt like Mary Poppins, arms outstretched overhead I desperately fought gusts of wind threatening to rip the umbrella out of my hands. Rain beat down on me, soaking my hair, face and clothes. At this point, I know I look a mess. And surely, my beautiful 4" Joan & David patent leather pumps will be ruined, but I fight the storm in search of one thing … shelter.

Finally, off in the distance, I see it like a beacon of light through the relentless wall of rain and wind I'm fighting … the warm, inviting lights, the muted opulence, the handsome doorman beckoning me, inviting me in. 

The entrance of the Bellevue.

(To be continued … )

Not a Good Fit

My beautiful 25 year old niece Madeleine was up from Florida for a visit recently. She shares my affinity for shoes (we're convinced it's genetic, as my maternal grandmother was also quite the shoe maven in her day), and, lucky for her, we're also the same size. What has become somewhat of a ritual of her visits is a trip to "Aunt Jen's Closet," … Madeleine's favorite place to "shop." It's actually mutually beneficial … she gets to go home with some fabulous new shoes, and I get the cathartic benefit of purging. (Actually, I think I get a double benefit … more room for new shoes!)

I watched Madeleine's reaction to her growing pile of loot with amusement. I must say … she made out quite well. A vintage pair of Frye boots that are amazing, but always hurt my feet too much to ever wear; a pair of strappy Cole Haan Nike Air sandals in a luscious nude suede, but I have more nude shoes than I'll ever need; rich garnet colored patent leather sling-backs in a retro 1940's look  … super-stylish, but easily the most uncomfortable pair of shoes I've ever owned; and a chocolate brown suede sandal with a 4" rope-covered wedge heel … spectacular, but just not worth the blisters they unfailingly produce. 

This latest "shopping expedition" has made me think about the concept of fit … and what makes a good fit, specifically. As any woman knows, that perfect, exquisite pair of pumps may feel great when we're walking around the shoe department, trying them on for size, but until you actually have them on your feet for several hours, you don't know just how they'll wear on your feet. And who among the ranks of shoe lovers doesn't have that perverse shrine in the back of their closet of one or two (and sometimes more) pairs of beautiful shoes that can only be admired from afar … because the band-aids required to get you through more than 20 minutes of wear simply ruins the overall aesthetic. 

After thinking about it, it became clear to me that some relationships can be a lot like ill-fitting shoes. That hard to deal with person you can only take in small doses; relationships fraught with tension; gossip lovers; people refusing to accept accountability for their actions; those who don't pull their weight, etc., are all examples of something that just doesn't fit in your life. Simply stated, friction creates blisters. Better to cheerfully pass such people along to someone who would be a better fit than to sport band-aids while waltzing through life in your Jimmy Choos. Life is waaay too short to deal with those who bring you down. After all, if we can't be comfortable in our own shoes … in our own skin … are we really being true to ourselves??

Fly-Fishing

Sometimes, you have to squeeze into your life what it is you love the most.

Being a stay-at-home Mom, my days are never the same, especially during the summer when my boys are home. As every mother knows, a house doesn't run itself … there are meals to be cooked, laundry done, children ferried here and there. Life, for everyone, is increasingly hectic. So I try to squeeze the creation and execution of Fabulous Shoe Night around my daily life … and around the busy lives and jobs of the advisory board. Between the varied tasks of raising three boys and running a household, I am  always thinking, thinking, thinking … my brain never seems to turn off. Getting FSN up and running so we can start helping people is never far from my mind. But as any mother knows, Mom-Brain has a way of kicking in when our brains are on overload, and despite our best intentions, things are forgotten. For me it happens more frequently than I care to admit. I always say, only half-kidding, "You'd be amazed at  just how much I'm capable of forgetting."  I'll be driving, or cooking, or in the middle of a million other things, barely aware of the ever-flowing river of ideas swirling just beneath the surface of conscious thought, when an idea will strike, seemingly out of nowhere. If I don't grab it, then and there, it gets swept up in the current … the rapid stream of thought of all the things I have yet to do, and rushes out of sight. Sigh.
Gone ….

During rare moments of quiet, if I still my mind, I can sometimes retrieve some of the ideas I thought swam away for good. I compare it to that fishing game for little kids, where a jumble of fish "swim" around an imaginary pond, and, if you time it just right, you can lower your rod and catch a moving fish with a magnet in place of a hook. I have "caught" a lot of ideas this way, in stillness and concentration, despite their elusive slipperiness.

As I try to squeeze in as much FSN work as I can among the small in-between spaces of such hectic busy-ness, I am thankful that these elusive ideas swimming in and out of my stream of consciousness are not actual fish, for more often than not, they need to be put on the proverbial shelf until the advisory board can get together to brainstorm. When this happens, I am reminded of Benjamin Franklin, who wisely said, " Fish and house guests smell after three days."  And as any busy mother knows, to prevent that from happening, I would have no choice but to fry them up for dinner. 

After all … I have three hungry boys to feed.

Stayin' Alive ... I Mean, Awake

I met with an attorney last week to discuss some of the emerging legal intricacies Fabulous Shoe Night has presented. By the end of our 90+ minutes together, I felt like my head had been put through a sausage maker. While I was on LSD. And Nyquil. At one point, I noticed my hands hurt, and looked down at them to figure out why.  I realized I was clutching the edges of the table, my knuckles white from pressure and exertion. It became clear to me that I was gripping the table in an effort to stay present, mentally.  To pay attention to something I didn't understand most of, and not tune out like I usually do when someone is discussing what I consider to be the mundane. I need to know, and understand, what is going on, yet I feel I am at a huge disadvantage. I am not a lawyer, nor did I go to business school. It is not a good feeling to realize that you understand approximately half of what someone is saying to you. Not a good feeling at all …

To make matters worse, I went home, and my (attorney) husband asked how the meeting went. I relayed all I could, which was not much. Clearly, the two lawyers will need to exchange emails or phone calls to bring him up to date. In the past, this was the point where I would mentally check out, and let someone else handle all the "boring stuff." It's so much easier to stay safely in the confines of your comfort zones … but this time, I vow not to. Pushing beyond self-imposed comfort zones is a little something we all need to experience, and it's called growth. It's not easy, it's not comfortable, and it is usually downright scary, but if we are ever to move forward …  in business, in life … it needs to be done.

So … it's time to put my (reading) glasses on, sharpen my pencil, hunker down and get to work … push past my comfort zones and learn something new, different, scary and, to me … boring. As I struggle to stay present and learn all this new, scary and boring stuff, I think of that famous quote about Ginger Rogers, doing everything Fred Astaire did, but backward … and in high heels. And then I think of the reaction some people have when they look down at my latest pair of fabulous, sky-high heels. Invariably, they ask,  "How on earth do you walk in those things??" My answer is always the same. Always. I smile, and say, "With attitude."

Are We There Yet .... ??

Exactly 15 years ago this month, I stopped working to enter the grueling world of  full-time Mommy-hood. I was a nurse, a wound care nurse, specifically, and I loved it. Looking back, I think I gravitated to wound care early on in my nursing career because there were tangible differences to be seen in actively healing wounds. I worked primarily in nursing homes, and, let's face it, nursing home patients don't exactly "recover" from old age, hop up out of bed with a spring in their step and mosey on out the facility doors. But I knew that if I treated a wound correctly, it would actually heal and make a real difference in the patient's life. Unless you're in the medical world, you can't appreciate the fact that a bedsore can kill a person …. especially if you're 90, diabetic, have high blood pressure and your immune system isn't working optimally. So, the point is, I like forward moving progress, something I can actually measure … like the slowly closing edges of a decubitus ulcer, or …  to all you non-medical people out there, a bedsore.

The next 15 years were filled with the blur of having and raising children. But, again, measurable differences could be observed and recorded … from the trimesters of pregnancy to actual birthdays, pre-school to now entering high school, I could see the forward moving progress of my boys reaching milestones and growing up.

To say that I am now wildly out of my comfort zones and smack dab in the middle of uncharted territory is a gross understatement, for too many reasons to count. This is all new to me. Add to that uncomfortable mix that the entire month of August has been a frustrating exercise in hurry-up-and-wait …. key people are on vacation, others are traveling for business, misunderstandings abounded, and pivotal meetings had to be postponed for the damnedest of reasons …. like earthquakes. Now we have Hurricane Irene winding her way up the east coast, and are looking at the prospect of days without power. 

Where are the carefully measurable guide posts of my comfort zones? I feel like I am at the starting line of a race, crouched and leaning forward, every muscle tensed in anticipation to spring into action at the sound of the starting gun, waiting, ears straining for the slightest sound, waiting, waiting  ….  

The starting gun ….

I get up in frustration and look around. Did anyone even bring a starting gun?? Yes? Okay … where is it? Oh … I get it. It's that cosmic conductor I referred to once, orchestrating all the moving parts. Well … what's going on? Is anybody up there?

And that's when I hear a friend's voice in my head, telling me again, as he has done at least a hundred times ….. "Patience, Grasshopper." I resist the urge, as I have done at least a hundred times, to smack him, and pick my head up,  straining to listen to something ….

Ah …. I think I'm starting to get it now. Finally. The conductor. In every piece of beautiful music, there are pauses … breaks woven in to become part of the overall harmony. The music will begin again … when it's time. All along I have realized I can't force things here … they will happen when it's time. I have to trust in the process, sit back and enjoy the journey, breaks and all.

So …. I pretend it's one of those interminably long car rides with my children. I pop a DVD in the back to keep them entertained, put my ear buds in my ears, and listen to the music …. knowing that it's just a matter of time before we reach our destination.

We'll get there. We always do.

It's Always Something .....

So, here I am, going blithely along, working on Fabulous Shoe Night. Finally, I feel I have found my "calling," so it doesn't feel like work at all. I have felt, and written more than once about, the unmistakable magic and serendipity I feel all around this project, and I am humbled, and so very, very grateful for the overwhelmingly positive response the concept has generated. I am confident I am on to something here … something that can make a real difference in the world. Things are going along swimmingly, right …..??

Well, maybe not as much as I may have first thought. I know that anything worth doing, and doing well, will run into obstacles at some point. There is no way to predict at what point those obstacles will occur, or what they may be, so when they strike, you get the wind knocked out of you … even though you have convinced yourself that you are fully prepared to deal with whatever may come along. Let me preface things by saying that today, almost 3 days later, is the first time I am able to talk about, think about, and write about what happened without breaking down in tears. I am a crier … you might as well find out now.

 There was a misunderstanding. It happens. A lot. Humans, and human communication, are flawed. I thought I had given the go-ahead for some work to begin. I thought that work was currently in process. It was not. At all. I didn't find out until 7 weeks later. Seven weeks. Almost the entire summer. Seven weeks. SEVEN.

 Was this done maliciously? Absolutely not. Was I furious? Yes ... VERY. Did I cry, scream, rant and rave in private?  Yes. Have I gotten down to the bottom of the communication breakdown yet? No. But I will. Is Fabulous Shoe Night adversely affected in any way? No … I don't think so. Have I learned a very valuable lesson? Oh … HELL, yes.

(Deep, deep breath.) Click, click, click, click. 

 That's me … in my stilettos. 

Can you hear me coming? 

Because I am … more determined, and certainly wiser, than ever.

      

         

        

LLC's, 501(c)(3)'s, Trademark Attorneys …Oh, My!

Let me begin by saying that if you are a lawyer, my hat is off to you in admiration and respect. Not because I think you're any more intelligent or sophisticated than the rest of the population, but because you obviously have the type of mind that can go through pages and pages of dry, tedious, verbose legal documents and not run from the room screaming. Clearly, my mind is not wired that way, for I would rather stick pins in my eyes. Really.

But I am learning that lawyers are a necessary evil, and not just because I'm married to one. Before we can get to the true heart of Fabulous Shoe Night … before we start to hold events, wearing our most fabulous shoes, and actually begin to raise money for those in need, we have to get all the mundane, dreary, seemingly endless, arid and wearisome legal work out of the way. Trust me … this stuff is God-awful. I had no idea what a good job I had done over nearly 17 years of marriage shielding myself from getting sucked into the vortex of such banality by asking the simple question, "How was your day at work?" There is true merit to the phrase "In one ear, out the other," and apparently, I am an expert.

So while somehow FSN is effortlessly gaining momentum all on it's own, and I am fielding offers out of the blue from boutiques, salons and restaurants to hold FSN events, I have to do what does not come naturally to me, and exercise patience. We are simply not there yet. Momentum and enthusiasm, and not just my own, are immensely difficult to reign in, but it must be done. For until we build an impenetrable, substantial, and yes … legal foundation, we run the risk of the entire operation collapsing around us.

To the trademark attorney, tax attorney, corporate attorney, etc., forgive me if my eyes seem to glaze over. You are not imagining things … they are.  I am only pretending to pay attention because I know I have to. But, please, don't be fooled; I have not mentally checked out. While you drone on and on, sounding like the voice of the adults in the Charlie Brown specials I grew up watching, my mind is elsewhere. I am thinking of all the people we will someday help, all the charities we will contribute to, all the good we can and will do … with your help. I know we have to get through this tedious part, build that solid, impenetrable foundation, and that the magic I have sensed all along will return. I just wish I had a little fairy dust to throw your way. Don't take this the wrong way, but … you need it.

A Thank You Note

Throughout the course of bringing Fabulous Shoe Night from mere idea to execution, I have been cognizant of one very important fact; that while I may have given "birth" to the concept, without the proper people around me, it would remain just that … an idea. Although I am acutely aware of what I sense as magic and serendipity all around the project, without concrete action, I know that magic has a way of fizzing out when ignored, and serendipity only works if it's mysterious, mercurial powers are put to good use. But both magic and serendipity would surely dry up without the singularly most important Universal law out there … gratitude.

While I plan to introduce all the members of my advisory board in future blog entries, one member stands out, and he deserves to be introduced first. Strange having a male advisory board member for something as decidedly feminine as Fabulous Shoe Night, you may ask? Well … yes and no. For while I may be the heart and soul of FSN, Jeffry, my friend of 20+ years, is the circulatory system that keeps things moving along. I can't help but think of the word "verb" when I think of Jeffry, for he is the personification of an action word. Actually, "verb" has a distinct look in my mind's eye when thinking of Jeff … cartoon block letters in Superman colors of red, blue and yellow, deeply outlined and shaded in black, with an exclamation mark at the end. A big one.

This project would simply go no where without Jeff, for so many reasons. He is ridiculously accomplished, well respected, energetic and charismatic, a real people-person, and sublimely connected. His best attributes, though, are his gigantic heart and his dedication to charitable endeavors. He doesn't just talk the talk, he walks the walk ... all over the globe … and is leader of the pack. Best of all, there is a dash -- just a dash! -- of male ego … just for spice. I like to kid him every now and then that while his initials may be JC, he cannot walk on water. And let's not tell him about the Superman colors … he may run out and buy a cape. But ... then again … I may let him wear it. At advisory board meetings only.

So, thank you, Jeffry, for helping to bring my dream of FSN come to fruition with your knowledge, heart and action. I love you, my friend … but something tells me you may already know that, don't you??

Serendipity

Throughout my short journey with Fabulous Shoe Night, and its subsequent evolution into an instrument for helping charities, I have noticed many strange and fortuitous coincidences.  So many, in fact, that I can't help but take it as a sign from the Universe that I am indeed on the right path, in the right place at the right time, and doing what I am somehow meant to do. I am constantly astounded … not only by other's enthusiasm and sheer excitement for the concept, but at their suggestion that I contact someone they know who would "be a perfect fit" for the project. Upon speaking with that person, they are not only indeed a perfect fit, but they lead me to other people who are perfect fits for roles I had yet to fill;  for as FSN grows, so do it's needs. Yet no sooner do I realize I have to find someone to fill a specific role than does that person seemingly materialize before me by chance meeting or spontaneous introduction, possessing the ideal skill set. It feels like magic, and I feel like a little girl again when I believed, whole-heartedly and without question, in magic, and fairy dust, and making a wish on a star or a dandelion puff … like there is a great cosmic conductor behind the scenes, skillfully orchestrating the many moving parts … and  effortlessly blending the separate instruments, guiding their individual notes into a discernible harmony. 

All along this journey, that is what I feel like I've been doing …. listening. Simply listening. If I am still, and tune out the extraneous noise of life, and tune in to the emerging sounds of the budding harmony, I become aware of magic all around me.  I find that doing this "work" of bringing Fabulous Shoe Night to fruition doesn't feel like work at all …. it is effortless, like dancing.  I stop what I am doing  and make myself still … and listen … tune in to the music and put my finger on the beat.  Then I  simply follow the music, and go where it leads me. Because isn't that what happens when you hear a piece of music that moves you to your very soul? You listen … feel the beat set by the conductor, let yourself go … and dance.

Labor Pain

Since it's conception, I have thought of Fabulous Shoe Night as my "baby." I feel as though I not only gave birth to the concept, so to speak, but like any mother of a newborn, I marvel, almost daily, at the growth and change that take place before my very eyes as ideas spin around and morph into solid shape. Then there is the exhaustion. I am beyond exhausted. My enthusiasm for FSN literally keeps me up at night. My eyes fly open most nights between 2:00 and 3:00 AM, and I am wide awake, instantly ... with already half-formed ideas fighting to get to the surface. And like any new mother, I feel exhilaration, pride, joy, love .... and fear.

What if I fail?

What if I can't do this?

What if .... ??

I think with any new venture, fear is part of the process. I know I can't do this alone ... that's why I have my carefully chosen (and wonderful) advisory board. It really does take a village to raise a child, especially this child. When moments of fear and doubt bubble up, they are my guide posts, my voices of reason. They patiently listen to my fears ( "LLC?? What's that? Not for profit or non-profit? BOTH?? I was a nurse, people! I don't understand any of this stuff!!") and then more or less tell me, "That's why we're here."  It became clear that not only have I poured my entire heart and soul into this, but I have attached enormous emotional significance ... perhaps too much. So much that it scares me sometimes ... and keeps me up at night.

I came to realize that despite all my fear and doubt, despite the little voice in my head that we all have that whispers, "Who do you think you're kidding?", that I simply cannot NOT try. It's as though that option doesn't even exist. It would be like trying to live with half a heart ... it's just not possible. I BELIEVE in this. There is an unseen spark buried deep within my heart that urges me -- persistently, so persistently! -- to keep going forward. And so I do ... because I would literally wither and die if I tried to ignore it. So, whether Fabulous Shoe Night fails or succeeds, I have to continue on, day by day ... put one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward.

One step at a time.

Every day.

Click, click, click, click.

That's me ...

In my stilettos ...

Can you hear me coming??

How I made the (unlikely) leap from a love of shoes ... to charity

If you think about it, the two things are pretty incongruous, and the idea to combine them really didn't come naturally ... at first.

The bridge connecting my love of shoes to charity first popped into my head while I was watching "Oprah" this past April. One guest profiled was Tom Shadyac, a Hollywood director who achieved tremendous professional and financial success, only to give up the "good life" for one of simplicity after a medical crisis. He literally moved from "a mansion to a mobile home," which is the name of the article provided in the link below. Tom has an amazing, uplifting story, and I encourage you to read the article. But the segment that left me literally wracked with sobs told about one of the many charities Tom donates to … Invisible Children.

College students Bobby Bailey, Laren Poole and Jason Russell were traveling, looking for adventure, when they came across the atrocity of the Lord's Resistance Army in Northern Uganda, a terrorist group who rip children from their homes in the night and force them to join the army. Those who resist are tortured, beaten, and some, killed in front of their families. To escape these nightly rampages, the children walk to nearby larger cities in groups, shrouded in the safety of numbers, to bunk down anywhere they can find shelter. Some nights they sleep literally stacked, body upon body. When the sun rises, they walk home to attend school, only to repeat their trek again at nightfall. Bobby, Laren and Jason dubbed these children the Nightwalkers, recorded all they saw, and turned it into a documentary called "Invisible Children." They also created a foundation by the same name, and have currently raised $33 million to, in their own words, " … rebuild schools, educate future leaders, and provide jobs in Northern Uganda."

After watching this, I realized that I, too, am safely shrouded …. not in numbers, but in comfort. Sure … I watch the news, but I have the option of turning it off when I become too upset by a particular issue. Like Scarlett O'Hara, I can  "… think about it tomorrow." When I tuck my three boys into bed at night, I know that not only will they sleep in comfort, but that they will be there in the morning. I KNOW that I am incredibly lucky …  by sheer location of where I landed on the planet.  My love of shoes, and the fact that I am so fortunate, has afforded me a closet FULL of beautiful shoes whose numbers could easily shod the feet of an entire village of Ugandan children. And while we donate monthly to several different charities, the automatic deductions from our checking account didn't FEEL like I was doing enough. Because I wasn't ….. plain and simple.  I became haunted by my own complacency, carefully ensconced in the sterility of the automatic deductions I didn't see, and, even worse, never felt.

It came to me in a near epiphany …. it was so simple, really. My idea for a Girl's Night Out wearing fabulous shoes … the idea that was received so enthusiastically by so many for it's pure sense of fun, could be the perfect vehicle to help others. Fabulous Shoe Night is something my friends and I would do anyway …  so what if I were to perhaps … charge a nominal cover fee that would go to a local charity? We could raise at least several hundred dollars that way …. money the charity would never have otherwise. My mind raced and leapt further ahead …. WAY further. What if I chose a date far enough out in the future, and I told all my Facebook friends, and they told all of theirs, and so on, and we would all host a FSN in our own towns on the same date? Everyone who attended would cover the cost of their own food and drink, but their cover fee would be donated to a predetermined charity? Of course, there would be logistics to work out, but ….. how much money could we raise?? The power and magic of Facebook have far-reaching tentacles  …. with enough planning and preparation, in addition to proper execution, this could be huge. Instead of a monthly GNO, aka Fabulous Shoe Night, it would be replaced by a monthly party …  a party with a purpose.

Now comes the hard part … working out the logistics and execution. The preliminary concept has changed somewhat and is taking definite shape. I have assembled an advisory board of  stellar, dedicated people, each bringing their unique talents to the table to help me bring this idea to fruition. In the coming months, you will "meet" these remarkable people through my blog entries. You will read of the astonishing, serendipitous events that have already taken place; events that lead me to believe that I am clearly on the right path. I hope you join me as I chronicle our journey through this blog. 

I am SO excited. It's going to be … fabulous.

www.oprah.com/oprahshow/Tom-Shadyac-From-Millionaire-to-Mobile-Home

www.oprah.com/oprahshow/Invisible-Children

www.invisiblechildren.com