Friday night was date night with the Dearly Beloved, as is our wont this time of year we wandered out to the American Airlines Center for a Mavericks game. Granted it was pre-season so we had new Mavs and some bench on the floor, not as exciting as the regular season but interesting and fun. Dearly Beloved was simply happy they were playing someone other than San Antonio, he was safe I wasn’t cheering for the other team in a crowd of rabid Dallas fans, he wouldn’t be forced to defend himself or my honor!
One of the great perks of DB’s job is the frequency of free tickets to basketball games in great, yes really great seats. These are always on the Platinum Level of the American Airlines Center, center court. I can actually see the play and when I want to watch a close up the big monitor is right there, right in front of me. Love these seats. Basketball is one of the few sports, other than Boxing I truly enjoy live. Love the play, don’t know why this is but it just seems more graceful for some reason to me. Of course my favorite games are the Mavericks vs. Spurs, part of this is simply being able to annoy DB, he is so embarrassed by my enthusiastic joy when the Spurs score.
This is not the point of today’s post though, Friday night I had a true ‘Oh my great God in Heaven I am truly getting old!’
What brought me to this mortifying and horrifying thought in the midst of my fun outing with my handsome husband? It was these three things…
Get the point? See the problem? That’s right two of the new players are younger than my favorite Red Cowboy Boots and not by just a little bit! Ouch!
My favorite boots are twenty-nine years old. They have been boot scootin’ in honky tonks and sashaying about Texas and across the nation for all those years. They are still perfection, soft deer hide, wonderful detail and perfectly fit to my foot. I have resoled them once in those years. I still remember buying them and the man who took my foot prints, asked how high I wanted the heel and what kind of pull I wanted (I chose loops). I remember making the deposit, more than I had ever paid for any pair of shoes, ever and that was just the deposit! The smell of the shop, tanned leathers, cigarettes and whiskey. I remember talking about what I was going to wear my boots for, whether I was making a fashion statement, going dancing or planning to wear them every day for walk-abouts in town; these things mattered, who would have known. I chose though, all the things that were important and several weeks later my custom fit boots were ready. They were the most comfortable things I had ever put on my feet!
My favorite boots are twenty-nine years old. Who would have thought. The first time DB and I spent a real date weekend together we met in New York City for his birthday. It was nearly Christmas, snow on the ground and cold as get out (my thought what are we doing here we could be in the Bahamas). We stayed at the Marriott in Times Square, one of my past favorites in New York. Our first day venturing out into the city for a walk-about I threw on jeans, a thick sweater, my full length fur and of course my cowboy boots. Don’t hate, I am from Texas and still entirely politically incorrect, yes I still wear fur not going to stop wearing what I already own. DB looked at my boots in horror and said, “are you wearing those? What are they and why are you wearing them?”
I had to explain, both what they are and why I wear them. I did so with a smile, the first time at least. For thirteen years I have been trying to get him into a pair of custom-made Cowboy Boots without success. Oh well, I suspect this is one of our forever differences along with the ‘No Tattoos’ he has written in invisible ink across his forehead.
My favorite boots are older than the two rookie Mavericks. All I could say is “What the Hell!”
Dearly Beloved on the other hand, well he smiled and said, “it’s okay honey you are still beautiful and only get better with age”. I wonder, this must be why I continue to love him.