SINK-ing

I was talking the other day to a friend of mine. Those of you who have been around a while will remember Friend-Since-I-Was-In-My-Mummy's-Tummy.  The conversation started because I shared a picture of something shiny and new that had shown up in the mail that day.

Last December, on the twenty-eighth, to be exact, I did something extremely indulgent. I ordered myself a pair of Miller and Ben Triple Threat tap shoes in custom colors. Did I need them? No, not really. My regular tap shoes--which are already rather pricey--are just fine, and I have two pairs of them. The first pair is decently worn in, and the second is my performance pair, so they're newer and cleaner. No, I definitely didn't need new tap shoes. The thing was, though, that my pal P.V. (you remember her) has blown through* two pairs of custom shoes at this point, and I have been quietly seething with jealousy the whole time. You see, standard tap shoes don't come in a wide array of colors. Black, tan, sometimes white. Occasionally some sort of novelty color, but usually in collaboration with some artist or other company. For the most part, this is perfectly practical. I like practical.

Most of the time.

This was not one of those times. This was one of those times where I decided to hell with practicality, I want something pretty, and by god I'm going to get it! So I did. For the record, the Miller and Ben company has been in business for 30+ years for several very good reasons. Quality product, the ability to customize more than just the colors, and top notch customer service. I knew they were a safe bet. I ended up working directly with one of the owners (Mr. Ofer Ben, an absolute delight of a human being) on my shoes. It took us a while to get things nailed down because we were having to size me without the ability to actually try anything on, but we did it, and the order was finalized, and then started the wait.

Three months is a long time when you're excited about something.

But they passed, as I knew they would, and finally my schmancy shoes were in my hot little hands and I may or may not have spent the rest of the day doing a very silly happy wiggle every time I so much as looked at the box they came in. And, of course, I had to tell everybody and their mother that they had arrived.

You know, like baby pictures. Except instead of a baby it's tap shoes.

And that brings me back to my conversation with FSIWIMMT. She and her husband are my teammates on #TeamNoKids. She is also a tapper, so she understands the desire for fancy shoes. I mentioned how much they set me back, and she reminded me that it's not like we're saving up for kids to go to college. She and her husband love being DINKs. (Double Income, No Kids)

I pointed out that by that logic I was a SINK.

She pointed out that the most important part was the -INK. Because "that's how we get fancy tap shoes."

She's not wrong.

 And they are BEAUTIFUL.

*P.V. teaches 30 classes/rehearsals/private tap lessons a week. She's hard on her shoes.