I went home to New Hampshire last week to cross-country ski and spend time with my mama.  One of her first remarks upon seeing me was “I’m sick of seeing you in those shoes.”  I asked what she’d rather see me in.  Something sensible.  And supportive.  And brown.

Now, my pink Chuck Taylors have become somewhat of a trademark.  Kooky old weathermen have their bow ties; I have my pink chucks.  I’ll see someone I met once months ago and they’ll say, “I remember your pink sneakers.”  As much as my ankles could use the supportive shoes my mother would like to see me get, I’m reluctant to give up the thing that seems to stand out about me (because apparently the pink wheelchair isn’t memorable enough).

So what shoes did she end up getting for me?  These gems.  They match my chair perfectly, they’re somewhat more supportive than my pink low-tops, and apparently, they’re mom-pleasing.