Every. Single. Time.

Every single time I need new trompin-around shoes, it goes something like this:

I go to department stores.

I go to shoe stores.

I go to outdoor stores.

I go to the outlet center.

And every store: has never heard of the concept that women might enjoy outdoor activities other than jogging, tennis, and looking cute on the beach; has heard of that concept, but only for ten zillion dollars; and/or has nothing in mens that fits both my price range and my feet.

And so I end up finding something I can live with for $35 in the mens section at Wal-Mart.

Dammit.

Anyway, Mom at least will be pleased to hear that I finally got rid of my old black high-tops with the completely split soles - I donated them to Shoes on the Mall via a guy at work.

That's one thing off my to-buy-before-Iceland list!