For anybody who knows me or who has read this blog in the past (and knows how crazy I am about shoes)…this one will strike you as odd.  But it is the truth.

I HATE all the shoes with the ridiculous stiletto platforms that try to lure us into thinking that we can actually stand in a shoe sitting more than 6” off the ground…and then walk.

You know the ones I’m talking about…they look pretty at first glance, but they’ve been known to give women nose bleeds when they wear them!

The theory of course is that the platform helps to raise the front part of our foot off the ground enough to reduce the angle down from the 6” heel behind the platform.

But who are they kidding?

The whole combination just makes us walk on stilts without anything touching the damn floor!

And when I see women try to walk in them…I think they look like they’re either constipated (ya have to squeeze your tush really tight in order to stay upright in ‘em) or have had their feet bound since birth (shuffling along in 2” increments).

(Pause) (Breathe)

Ok.  Now that I’ve said it, I feel all the 54 years that I am.  And right now, that feels old.

Why?  Because when I was wearing a cute little shoe with a 3–*-” heel (not too long ago), I remember my mother saying to me …”how do you walk in those things?”  And she sounded old when she said it.

So I’ve become my mother.

But I’m standing by my hatred.

‘Cause I think they’re just too much shoe.

Honestly, how can you look at them and not think they’re bulky.

I mean come ‘on!?!  A platform bootie?

It looks like little foot tanks, or the boots they put on people who have had major foot surgery.

Or platform shoes that combine their bulkiness with animal prints?  Like we want lots of spotted patterns on our feet?

*Exception: some animal print shoes can be lovely with a simple outfit, adding just a bit of interest while making the whole look classy…and styling, as long as the shoes are an accent and don’t look like we just wrapped our foot in a live leopard.

Finally…and the end of my rant (I promise)…What is up with the large, bulky platform shoes that are COVERED with sequins, jewels or crystals?

It’s not enough that we’re towering off the ground, but have to be shooting off rays of light as we walk?

Maybe I am old.

Or I’ve just gotten to the point where I like to blend the pieces of my wardrobe together into one cohesive look, rather than having all the attention go to two gigantic coverings on my feet.

Who knows.  I’m so worked up now…I think I’ll put on my favorite pair of simple, classy, fuzzy slippers and curl up with all my new fashion magazines.

Maybe they’re showing the new line of 6” platform running shoes.

So… as you may have noticed…its been a little quiet here on She Thinks lately, yes?

Well, it’s partly because we’re busy and such, but mostly because we’ve run out of interesting topics to write about.  We know they’re out there…but we just can’t grab onto them and get inspired ourselves.

So help us out here: if you enjoy this blog, please, send us topics!

We’re just… blank.  And we’d love to know if you have any burning or interesting questions that you’d like us to (attempt to) answer.

I’m sure with your help, we’ll get inspired again and hit the keys with gusto…at least for awhile.

And hey…in advance…thanks for anything you come up with.

My Maiden name was Kram.

It was nice and short and went well with Cindy.

Cindy Kram.

Easy to remember, and easy to spell.

And the fun part of the name was that it was ”Mark” spelled backwards.

My dad named his manufacturing company “Mark Industries” (a nice little family inside joke).   And, I’m pretty sure I have a cousin out there named Mark Kram (funny family huh?).

People used to tell me that my last name was almost certainly shortened from “Kramer” (a well known German name) when my grandfather immigrated to this country, but my dad denied it…adamantly…as did his dad.

But I didn’t care.  I just thought it was cool that it was Mark spelled backwards.

Growing up, I never felt a strong attachment to the name.  But I identified with it.  I was Cindy Kram.

I guess, as a girl, I got the message early on that it was a temporary moniker that I’d someday shed for another, so don’t get too close.   Boys are raised with the expectation that they will keep their last names and “carry on” the name throughout the generations, but none of that pressure (or expectation) is bestowed upon girls.

But I was raised in a pretty progressive family where most of the gender expectations were being challenged on a regular basis.  So when it came to actually changing my name when I got married…I really had to think about whether or not I wanted a new name.

I felt like I could choose to take on a new name…or not, (which actually ended up causing me lots of angst).

Should I hold onto my given name and buck tradition?  Did Cindy Kram carry an attachment to my heritage and history that I should hold on to?  Did giving up my last name for a man mean that I wasn’t an independent woman?  Did I want to have a different last name than my husband?  Or… my (future) kids?

Finally…it came down to the most important question of all…did I like the name?

Carrillo.  Cindy Carrillo.

It kind of flowed.

I liked the two “C’s.”

But I couldn’t roll my “rrrrrr’s” when saying the name (unless I used the phlegm in my throat) and felt a bit intimidated by a name that I knew carried a whole new ethnicity with it.

Most folks think its Italian, but it’s actually Hispanic.  Or rather Spanish…as my mother-in-law used to tell me.

But even so, she said I didn’t have to role the “rrrrrrr’s.”  She said they pronounced it with a hard “r” and “l” sound (Car-ril-lo)…not (Carrrrr-eee-yo).

So I tried it on.  Played with it.  Wrote it down.  Practiced a new signature.  Pretended that I was being introduced at a party, “I’d like you to meet Cindy Carrillo.”

And I started to like the way it felt.

Only then did I start to embrace the idea of taking on a new name with true enthusiasm (and let go of all the other stuff).

But not my mom.

She never really loved the name Kram herself (her maiden name was Dankner – so not all that wonderful on its own!), but I think she liked the married identity that the name brought to her.  And that it was shorter than her maiden name (she loved having a full name that was only 7 letters – Del Kram).  And (if truth be told)…that it was Jewish.

And Carrillo was not.

So she came up with an alternative that she carefully proposed to Brian and me.

She explained that since Brian was becoming a doctor…and we were now living in a time when women shouldn’t have to change their names to match their husband (ALWAYS the feminist)…she thought we BOTH should change our names to…

Cohen.  A nice Jewish name.

Brian would be Dr. Cohen: a nice Jewish doctor.

Problem solved.

Except I kinda liked the whole Hispanic (sorry…Spanish) thing.  It’s not often a blonde haired- blue eyed-Jew-from the suburbs of Detroit, could get a new layer to her identity without anyone judging her.

So I took the name Carrillo (mom ended up embracing the whole idea), with all its history and richness, and wore it with love and pride.

I never felt like I “gave up” Kram.  I just wore Carrillo over Kram like the layering of a perfect outfit.

And…when Brian and I split up, I asked him if it would be ok if I kept Carrillo (I asked his mom too).

It had become a significant piece of my identity.  I had two beautiful Hispanic (sorry…Spanish) kids with the name, and the name had been with me for almost as long as I had the name Kram, so it felt like it was mine.

So, I’ve kept it, and I’m glad I’m a Carrillo.

And a Kram.

P.S.  Now that Ally is getting married…to a “Kohn” (I know, the irony is almost scary), I’m leaving her alone to make her own decision.

P.S.S.  My mom would not.

Davy Jones from the Monkee’s.

Hands down.

I absolutely loved him.

{Isn’t he beautiful????  I can hardly stand it. (Full disclosure: Ally picked this picture and wrote this caption.  This is what happens when Cindy won’t learn how to add pictures herself.)}

He had the sweetest face and really thick brown hair…and the cutest British accent I had ever heard.

OK…it was actually the first British accent I had ever heard.

My very first album was The Monkee’s (from my wonderful brother) and I think I probably listened to it 300 times in the first month that I got it, all the while daydreamin’ about running off in the middle of the night to get married to Davy!

I was 10.

I thought he was the only one for me.

I also thought that it was totally romantic to run off with someone in the middle of the night.

(Now I just want a good night’s sleep)

By the age of 10 ½ … I was over him.

And then I totally fell in love with Chip Douglas (the middle brother) on My Three Sons.  In actuality, I REALLY loved Robby Douglas (the oldest brother) but had to think rationally at the time and admit that he was just too old for me (I was 10 ½ and he must have been close to 16 on the show).  So I settled for Chip.

{I don’t know which one my Mom hearts the most.  I like the doggie. – Ally}

Then I turned 11 and heard the Album “Revolver” by The Beatles and I only had eyes for Paul McCartney.

{FINALLY, I kinda get this one… – Ally}

And that was pretty much it until I turned 45.

That’s right…over 30 years with the same celebrity crush.  Me and about a million other women my age.

And then I fell for George Clooney…

And I’m stopping now, ‘cause I’m way too old to have celebrity crushes any more.

Just don’t tell George I’ve given up on him.

{We all know how beautiful George is, so here’s a BABY PANDA!!  Mom, you really need to upload your own pictures.  You have only yourself to blame. – Ally}

At different times in my adult life, vacations were designed for different purposes.

And let me begin by saying that I’ve been incredibly fortunate throughout my life to have had both the time and the resources to go on some amazing vacations.

When the kids were young, it was all about seeing new and exciting places and building memories of special times together.  Whether it meant a trip to Washington DC to visit the museums, a week at a Disney Theme Park, or camping in the beautiful Rocky Mountains…it was all about exposure and memories.

Living in Boulder, Colorado we can get quite insular.  We don’t have a lot of diversity here.  So it’s easy to forget that there are many different types of people, with different cultures and viewpoints making up the world.  So I always felt it was important that we make an effort to travel around in order to expand our understanding of the world we live in.

When the kids were young, I thought of vacations as an opportunity to learn.  Yes…it was also about fun.  But when you’re raising kids, it’s also about seeing new things and learning about our history, different cultures (even within the same State!), and the vast beauty of our country.

We’d start months in advance and I’d get the kids involved in the planning process as much as possible.   We’d get out maps, read books on the locations we’d be going to and talk about what we hoped to do.

We’d also start with a work chart about 2 months ahead of a vacation.  The kids would earn .25 for each chore they’d complete, and by the time we’d leave on vacation, they’d have earned anywhere from $35-$50 (each) to spend along the way.

It was a great strategy.

Brian and I never had to ask the kids to do anything around the house leading up to a trip (Woohoo – they actually wanted to do chores so they could earn $$) and…once we were on vacation, they never asked us for anything.

None of the typical “Mommy…can I have that T-shirt/sweatshirt/banner/poster/etc?”

Instead, they would count their money and decide if they really wanted an item (or not) and would end up being incredibly frugal along the way.  It was HEAVEN!

During those early years, our vacations were also about balance.  A bit of activity, a bit of rest, and a bit of adventure.  As long as the kids were happy…we were happy.  And, as any parent knows, their happiness was based on maintaining that balance.  If we screwed with the balance, they’d quickly deteriorate into cranky, unhappy children.  And that…would not make for an ideal vacation for anyone!

As the kids got older, our ideal vacations became more about exploring the world.  We’d venture farther and experience more.  Whether it was a 3 week RV trip up through Canada, or across the Atlantic to destinations in Europe – each vacation was jammed packed with new adventures and explorations of new cultures.

Those vacations were “active.”  We did a lot.  We saw a lot.  And…still trying to maintain some level of balance (this time because mommy and daddy would get cranky if we didn’t), we would also fit in a couple of quiet days to just enjoy our surroundings.

Now…as I take more vacations on my own (without the kids I mean) I love those restful, quiet, sit by the pool kind of vacations.  Oh I still like a bit of adventure once in awhile.  But honestly…I’m really good with going to one place and just hanging out.

When I’m in the mood to both explore and relax however, my ideal vacation is a cruise.  I get to unpack once, see a bunch of places, eat well, dance a lot and still have some time to sit by the pool and hang out with a good book and a great fruity rum drink.

I’m really curious how it will be when the house in Ridgway is complete though (we’re about 50% of the way through that project).  Will I still want to travel?  Or will I feel like I have to “use” that house now that I have it?

I think I’ll figure out the balance…and still do a bit of both.

But I mean really…either way…it’s all ideal!