The rain drop that broke the Oregonian's back

You all know I'm not big on "product placement" here on this blog.  I try not to be a "brand snob", either, but I do appreciate quality.  I don't believe quality is always brand-specific... I've had some clothes from Wal-Mart last for over ten years, and then have had some items from more expensive stores disintegrate in the wash. 

Whoa there... excuse me, I have to stop myself from heading down the "Philosophy of Fashion" rabbit trail...

This post is a simple *SQUEE* about my first pair of rain boots in over twenty years. Last time I had them, I was living in Atlanta, Georgia.  I was a child enamored with the concept of "rain gear", umbrellas, rain coats, galoshes.  I dreamt of jumping into puddles decked out in such a weather-resistant ensemble.

Be careful what you wish for. 

I moved to Oregon at the tender age of 8.  Not just Oregon, though; the Oregon coast.  Suffice it to say, I must have picked up on the subtle notion that rain gear was for WIMPS.  If you didn't want to get wet, then you chose the wrong place to live.

My feet quickly outgrew my Georgia rainboots, and I haven't had a proper pair since.  I guess I grew accustomed to the rain.  Whether walking home from school, trekking across campus in college, or dodging puddles through grocery store parking lots-- it was just a given that my feet and shoes would get wet.  Pant cuffs would get drenched, too.  Nothing to complain about, though; no wimps here! 

  But over this past spring break, my tolerance for getting soaked just snapped.  It was the rain drop that broke the Oregonian's back.  The kids and I trekked down to OMSI to meet some friends.  As we prepared to leave the house, I glanced outside and the rain seemed Class C:  Non-threatening but steady drizzle (we have a great variety of rain terms and classifications over here).  I wore my wool clogs, but grudgingly put on my very functional yet unfashionable rain coat.  Joe wore his crocs, sans socks.  Oi vay.  Vasi and Susy wore tennis shoes.  

OMSI was fantastic!  But because it was spring break, and everyone and their extended family seemed to be there, too, I  had to park the van in overflow parking... about five blocks away.  No problem.  Let's just park already!  Open the door to see that the van is flanked with vast, inescapable puddles.  Basically, I had parked in a small pond.  OH WELL!  WE ARE NOT WIMPS, we are OREGONIANS!

Suffice it to say, guiding four children through an inudstrial area with crumbling sidewalks ridden with potholes was an ascetical feat fit for Lent.  Amazingly, my kids seemed unaffected and pressed on.  What troopers!  We met our friends at the museum, and had a really good time.  First stop?  The discovery room, where the kids headed straight for the-- wait for it-- water play table/ area.  Fascinating.  These Oregon kids just love their water. 

While there, I couldn't help but notice the prevalance of "Hunter boots" being worn by adults and children alike.  What were they?  Were they some super popular boots that I'd never seen before?  Despite my aversion to "labels," I did admire the aesthetic of the boot, and vintage-esque logo.  But in my mind, rain boots were deemed unnecessary, so I didn't think to ask my friend about them (her own two kids were wearing Hunter boots, too).

After the museum, we walked to a nearby restarant to get some lunch.  Still raining, I watched in utter disgust as my sons's sockless Croc'ed feet were submerged absentmindedly and repeatedly, into murky puddles.  Proud parenting moment, I tell ya.  My own wool clogs were soaked through, as well.
  Everything below my torso was soaked, and we all required a hot shower or bath after we got home.  My clogs were left in front of the heater to dry out for the rest of the day.

Seriously, I couldn't remember the last time I'd been that drenched.  In theory, based on my rain-tolerance history, I should have been fine.  Peachy.  Instead, however, a cold shudder went through my body each time I thought about those puddles and my soaked clogs and socks...

Perhaps.... perhaps it was time for some rain boots.

Rain boots.  They should be cheap, right?  A quick online investigation informed me that no, rain boots are in fact NOT cheap.  So I did what any normal cheapskate would do; I scoured my local thrift stores for galoshes.  Nothing.
Craiglist aka Creepslist?  Hmm... it's worth a shot...   Hey, I found some!  A few e-mails later and an afternoon trip to the east side yielded a lovely pair of boots for half the retail price.  We met in a public place (coffee shop) and she was not a creep (very nice lady, actually).  Win, win, win.  Husband was not super excited about kissing more money good-bye, but I justified it by calling them an early Mother's Day gift.  *Gulp*. 

Putting on and wearing the boots made me feel like a little kid again.  I know that sounds really corny, but it's true.  I've only had them for a week, but I have worn them several times, and I'm amazed at how DRY my feet stay!  Major "DUH!" moment. And I even tuck my jeans into them (sez Miss Frump), not because it's trendy but because my PANT LEGS STAY DRY!  It's incredible.  Now I don't have to dance around dark pools of murky city water.

I'm a bit embarrassed that I have eschewed proper rain boots for so long now.  What took me so long?  Now I'd really like to find a pair each for my kids, to hopefully instill in them an early appreciation for dry feet.  Who knows, maybe I'll even invest in real rain slickers, too...??!!  The rainy sky's the limit.  You might not be able to get these things off of me.  I'm still internally debating whether or not I can wear these to church.  Prolly not.