Barefoot Winter

I went to a fly fishing film tour this past week with my love. It looked like a flannel convention with grown men drooling over bamboo sticks, swapping fish stories, beers in hand. It was an absolute blast. My husband has a crazy lucky streak in life where he wins almost every raffle he enters, that night was no exception. We went home with a killer pair of Costa Sunglasses and a chance to win a trip to Belize. Fingers crossed! 

Anyway, the films were really fun to watch. A lot of the films were done in Montana, Canada, and get this.... Islamorada! In case you don't know where that is, it's in the Florida Keys. 

Best. Place. In the world. 

Everyone in the show had lobster red faces from the Florida sunshine and not a shoe- or flip flop in site. When I was watching the film I kept thinking- "there are my people". Barefoot, sun-worshipers, swimming day and night. It felt like a cultural exchange between me and the people of Wisconsin in the room that night. If only in my mind.

I broke a little last week. I stopped wearing socks. I've always had a problem with socks. I remember crying when I had to wear them growing up. Being raised by a barefoot mother, it almost became a religion in our house. No shoes, and definitely no socks. I've died a little inside with every sock I have had to put on this winter, until a lightbulb came on one day- "just go sock-free today Andrea". I immediately felt free. Like I had a silly grin on my face in the grocery store. I stopped wearing a bra years ago, but who knew not wearing socks could lead to feeling more free?! 

Some people live their entire lives barefoot. I am one of those people.