Today is a great day for a pair of lemon-yellow heels.

yellow-heels

cabindoorcoffee.com

Boots here, wishing you a fantastical day.  Today is a good day to kick up your favorite pair of heels and feel GREAT about life.  Click those heels together and start singing your favorite song.

Stretch your attitude to a higher place.  “Keep your heels, head, and standards high.”  Coco Chanel has it right.  And today?  Your favorite heels are going to give you that edge — that added height — you need to reach even higher today.

Be happy.  It is one of the single most attractive things about you.  Truly.

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Celebrating? Or re-grouping?

celebrating-or-recovering

cabindoorcoffee.com

Boots here.  Taking a nice little breather from all of life’s various forms of coffee goodness and cabin door delights.  I came across this picture tonight and was trying to remember what possessed me to take such an un-artful picture and whether the clues in this image scream happiness or stress, celebrating or re-grouping.  The moment must have meant something to me, one way or another — otherwise I wouldn’t have felt inclined to capture it on film.  The clues: a bottle of wine, a corkscrew, two wine glasses, some junk mail, a phone that has been turned off, some ripe bananas, a clean stovetop . . .  Hmmmmm.

This past year has been full of change.  Lots of moving from place to place and lots of moving pieces.  For those of you move frequently, you can understand how life sometimes presents many choices — choices that beckon and ask to be your dance partner for the next tune.  For those of you who haven’t moved for 15, 20, or more years, you might not be able to comprehend the impact of all the chaotic transition that moving creates. And I feel a goodly bit of envy for you.  You know where you want to be and you have found it.  This is a rare thing in life and you should feel proud that you have found a place to hang your hat and scrape your boots.

I’ve moved from unrefined one-room cabins to primitive wall tents to fixer-uppers to fancy beach houses . . . and back to rustic cabins.  Cabins with rotting floors to houses with the finest hardwood flooring.  No running water to three (count ’em!) full baths.  Kerosene lamps to the latest and greatest in recessed lighting.

With so much moving, details get muted, memories get slopped together like a North Dakota funeral hotdish, and stuff remains unpacked.  Boy, does it ever.  Items that felt to be so important to you when you were carefully packing them into boxes become forgotten.  Unnecessary.  You learn to make do with what you have.  You realize that one wooden spoon is enough.  Three bath towels are plenty.  You’ve moved so many times that when you are heading home from town you forget to turn left to your new abode and turn right instead toward your old home.  Habits generate your direction.  You realize that you have been operating on autopilot.  A thought takes hold: Maybe that’s why I keep moving so often. 

You start to associate seasons, sunsets, conditions, and wildlife with certain residences.  The house with the Canada geese.  The house with the beautiful birdies.  The house with the deer.  The house with the glorious sunsets.  The house with the stinky water.  The house with the ultra-quiet nights.  The house with the flickering lights.  The house with the orbs.  The house with the scary bat.  The house with the wet firewood.  The house with all of the glorious sunlight.  The house with the smoking stove.  The house with the cranky water pump.  The house with the insane squirrel that kept chewing through the screens.

I am going to make the assumption that this photo op was cause for celebration because I can’t fathom why I would want to visually record a time of stress and duress . . . unless, of course, I was celebrating that I had survived some such mishap . . . which I guess makes stress, ultimately and in the end, a cause for celebration.

Maybe there is some mysterious circuitousness in this image . . . reminding me that even the survival of mishaps deserves some homage.  At the very least a celebration that calls for a bottle of wine and a toast for two.  From where I (temporarily) sit now looking out over the Sound . . . with memories of past dwellings mingling and steeping in this little pot of Now . . . there is this message, sometimes extraordinarily subliminal, that pops into every image: Life Is Good.

And what would life be without a Stetson to hang on the back of the door and a good pair of boots to slip into each morning?   Everyone loves a Stetson and I, in particular, love Ariat boots.  Something about the fit and the cut that make my feet happy.

 

Stetson Men’s Powder River 4X Buffalo Felt Cowboy Hat

http://amzn.to/2cnjbkY

Ariat Women’s Legend Western Cowboy Boot

http://amzn.to/2cnk5xP

Achla Designs BS-03 Boot Scraper

http://amzn.to/2cnjGeO

In Defense of Yoga Pants (The Skinny Jeans Crusade Continues)

The Jeans Cupboard Category 1:  

Baggy, Uni-sex Pants: expensive yoga pants, harem pants, jeggings, leggings, & pajama bottoms

The Criminalization of Yoga Pants

Boots, feeling Brave and reporting for duty on The Skinny Jeans Crusade.  Yup, your Badass Coffee Babe is here to dispel the myths that we allow others to sell to us regarding our own sweet body image.  And, yes, I am ready to take on the Criminalization of the Innocent Yoga Pants.

It’s a factual truth that we are entirely too hard on ourselves regarding body image.  I mean, come on, people.  It’s ridiculous how self-critical we are when it comes to our bodily temple.  We look in the mirror and think that we simply must have the perfect body and the perfect clothes according to societal and fashion standards.  But for what?  For whom?

And why?  What’s the prize for having achieved some standard of Perfection?  Would someone explain to me how all of this matters?  Right?  Isn’t true living more about who we are and what we say and what we do that really matters?  Aren’t you tired of all of the self-imposed negativity?  I, Boots, have had it with all of this bad-mouthing self-talk.

But there are those times when it feels good to feel hot according to our own personal Hot-o-Meter.  Don’t we want to feel that inner satisfaction when our outer selves match who we feel like on the inside?  And that our inner selves match who we feel like on the outside?  Call it balance.  Equilibrium.  Stability.  Sanity.  Use whatever word in the lexicon that suits you, but I am calling it Being True to My Levi’s.  All I am asking here is to be kind and to adjust your Hot-o-Meter.  We all can’t fit into a size 2.  That’s just factual.  Be nice.

What with spending as much time as possible out in the woods and on the trail, I am the first to dispatch with outer artificiality . . . But I do believe in being okay with wanting my external to honor my internal.  There’s nothing wrong with any of us trying to be our best selves.

So that is why I am here . . . dedicated to fitting our way through the spectrum of categories that defines our jeans wardrobe.  I am thinking it’s time to get down and get real and exercise some humor.  Why?  Because maybe it’s time to take a real look at reality and poke a little fun at it at the same time.   And I am thinking that it’s time to examine why we think we are “settling” when we wear our baggy, uni-sex pants with no waistline and no fasteners . . . what we fondly call our Yoga Pants.

Yoga Pants take on many different forms and prices.  At the higher end of the Yoga Pants spectrum, you have your “fancy” pants that you buy from the expensive brands that advertise themselves as Authentic Yoga Pants.  You know the kind.  These are the pants that women pull on in the morning when they have to run to the store for half-and-half for their morning coffee.  These pants are designed to look casually authentic, like the wearer is saying: “Attention all shoppers: I just left my hot yoga class (not true). . . and by the way, I paid a lot of money for these pants (true) so that is why I look so fashionable in my baggy pants with no fasteners.”

I realize that this is a heck of a lot for a pair of loose cotton knit pants to declare, but this is what some people believe.  Really.  I can’t make this up.  These pants go for no less than $90 a pair, when on sale, and are no better than the leggings, the jeggings, the wide-legged sweat pants, or the solid-color pajama pants you can buy on the 90%-off sale rack at some bargain basement for $7.99.  Call me cheap but I don’t need the little enlightened embroidered emblem on the back of my waistband to announce that my Yoga Pants are bonafide.  Life isn’t this shallow.  At least not for the Thinking Folk.

Can we all agree?  All categories of shapeless pants without fasteners: they all constitute Yoga Pants.  I care neither how much you paid nor from which boutique or bargain basement you bought them.  They still come down to the simplest of terms: You just don’t want to put yourself into a pair of structured denim jeans with all of those restrictive zippers and pockets . . . which I think we can all agree that we are okay with.

Busting Through and Breaking Down the Gender Barriers of Yoga Pants

I remember this one boyfriend who belonged to one of my girlfriends.  Let’s call him Brian.  Brian was one of those men who thought he was a lot smarter than he actually was.  I guess you could say that Brian thought of himself as an erudite person in Male Yoga Pants.

Brian sold himself as a “male kindergarten teacher” — much like the gender-assuming people who still say “female doctor” or “male nurse.”  Brian was pretty proud of himself for having broken ranks and chosen a largely-female career.

In accordance with Brian’s Gender Infiltration, Brian wore Yoga Pants day in and day out.  It’s not that Brian was heavy or unable to fit into a pair of denims.  He was just lazy and couldn’t be bothered with fasteners.  It wasn’t the best look for Brian, but who really cared.  Certainly his young students didn’t care.  And all of us in the Posse weren’t in Shannon’s shoes who had to look at Brian everyday in his sloppy pants.

I recount this story merely to emphasize that Male Yoga Pants, too, exist, and we can safely steer away from what we traditionally assume and think of as a a female-dominated fashion choice.  Thank you, Brian.

So what the heck am I trying to say here?

Not a whole lot.  It’s okay to wear Yoga Pants as your go-to fashion.  It’s okay to want to be more comfortable than you feel in your Levi’s.  It’s okay as long as you are okay with every thing associated with this conversation.  Remember: there are no judges.  Not even you.  If you can dismiss The Pitiless Judge from the bench, you are miles ahead of many.

Boots’ Jeans Cupboard Takeaway:

Be who you are and become who you want to be.  

Okay . . . I couldn’t resist adding some Yoga Pants that caught my fancy.  If you are going to go baggy, you might as well make a statement.  I think these Aladdin pants are fun, fun, fun!  And you might as well make a statement with your comfort.

Firstharem Aladdin Bohemian Yoga Hippie Baggy Casual Pants

http://amzn.to/2cIERZ5

E4U Women’s Slimming Foldover Yoga Pajama Bootcut Lounge Pants

http://amzn.to/2cB2nGD

Idingding Womens Hot Sale Galaxy Star Printed High Waist Leggings Pants

http://amzn.to/2dbZNsr

It’s Cute Heels Monday.

high-heels-98192_960_720

cabindoorcoffee.com

Boots the Badass Coffee Babe here.  As much as I love my boots, let it not be said that I don’t like my heels, too.  You wouldn’t think it, but I have quite the collection.  I know that I tout boots as being where it’s at in the ways of footwear, but heels also have their place in the Roster of Shoe Happiness.

So it’s Monday today.  Wear some cute heels and you will be surprised at what a game changer this is.  Keep that head held high and don’t let your dauber down.  And if you do catch a case of the Monday blues, well, spend that time admiring the cute shoes that you are wearing as you motor through the day in high click-clack fashion.  Here are some darling pumps for you to check out on this Cute Heels Monday.  Very cute and very wearable!  Have fun daydreaming as you check out these heels.

Show Story Ladies Skull Rose Print Platform Bone Heel Party Club Pumps


http://amzn.to/2coTlgH

Hot Chocolate Design Chocolaticas High Heels Holly Pop Women’s Mary Jane Pump

http://amzn.to/2cnXhuU

Steve Madden Women’s Veruca Dress Pump

http://amzn.to/2cwQN1J

Saturday Morning Rewind

free-imagesBoots here with some fabulous Saturday morning music for you to enjoy with your coffee.  This music is nothing short of fantastic.  Brilliant.  Energetic.  Super fun!   Sam & Dave, Otis Redding, and Marvin Gaye.  This is the sort of line-up that puts a smile on your face and gets your toes tapping.

And this lively music combined with my morning Joe?  Well, nothing’s going to stop me today from putting my best left foot forward and dancing like I mean it.   After all, is there anything more fun than some lively dancing?  Be it on a crowded dance floor or in your laundry room . . . while walking down the driveway or mucking out the stalls.  Dancing is one of those primary elements that makes the world go round.  It’s true.  It really is.

So this weekend, get out there and shake your thang.  Have a good time.  Appreciate the beat of the tunes and  the beat of your heart.

Sam & Dave – Soul Man (1967)

Otis Redding “Try A Little Tenderness” Live 1967

Otis Redding, “I’ve Been Loving You Too Long”, from MIPF 1967

Marvin Gaye- Got to Give It Up (Long version). TV Performance 1977

Joie Women’s Chap Boot

http://amzn.to/2cjRlDa

Ollio Women’s Shoe Platform Open Toe High Heel Ribbon Accent Multi Color Pump

http://amzn.to/2csFpnm

The Cutest Rain Boots Ever for Dresses, Jeans, & Fall Puddles

free-imagesBoots here . . . and it has been waaaaaay too long since we have talked boots!  It’s time to take a break from coffee and make today all about boots!  I can sure tell that the weather is changing, and it’s time to pull my boots out from the back of the barn.

You must check out these puddle jumpers for the upcoming puddle season.  If you live in the desert, go ahead and look anyway.  They are so cute that they will make you smile, even while knowing that you will never be able to wear them in your arid climate.  That’s the thing about boots — they need not offer any practicality while making us happy.

I don’t think that there has ever been a pair of boots that I didn’t like, but these boots below are especially cute.  Have fun shopping!  Here is just a sample of the cute colors that these boots come in.  Click on the image or the link and when you see the selection, scroll over the colors.  You are sure to get enjoyment from just window shopping!

And the best part?  They are reasonably priced!

Nomad Women’s Puddles Rain Boot

http://amzn.to/2czT20s


http://amzn.to/2c6kZeO


http://amzn.to/2czUpfF

An Unexpected Inheritance

Airedale_Terrier_1

cabindoorcoffee.wordpress.com

Greetings, good people!  Boots here.  I can’t seem to stay off the trail these days.  The good news?  I’m back in the office saddle again and ready to resume the 3 Rs: (w)riting, reading, and researching coffee hints and tips for you.

I used to work for an old-timer named Dinty at an isolated lake on some old homestead that had been pieced out of the surrounding government land — or guvment land, as Dinty used to say.  Dinty’s cabin was perched on a rocky outcropping high above the lake — a location which increased the view dramatically but which also made the chore of hauling water quite the Olympic-style feat for anyone over the age of old-timer status.   That’s where I came in: Dinty’s Personal Hired Girl.

Dinty was short for Dinsmore and, as you can guess with a name like Dinsmore, you just know that this gentleman was destined to be a character.  And he was.  Dinty lived a spartan life with his  Airedale — the only breed of dog that Dinty would entertain sharing his cabin with.  Dinty named every one of his Airedales Sandy “for that durned dog in the Little Orphan Annie cartoon.”

Dinty called all of the various Airedales Sandy to the dog’s face, back, or rear, but to the rest of us human folk, he would use the Roman numeral system, as if the dogs were the descendant kings and queens of some ill-fated, disinherited canine lineage.  It didn’t matter if the dogs were male or female, as the name Sandy was one of those non-gender names like Chris or Jessie or Terry.

I happened to be working for Dinty the summer that Sandy VI was reigning over the homestead.  For those of you who have long-forgotten the Roman numeral system, that would be #6.  Now I am an epic dog lover, but I would not say that I was Sandy VI’s number one fan.  The first time I met the dog, she bristled at me like a hedgehog and gave me that mean look that dogs give you when they want to mess with your mind.  And maybe take a chomp out of your leg.

You would be playing a mid-afternoon game of backgammon with Dinty and, if you moved your foot just-so under the table, Sandy VI would come at your foot like a terra-firma version of Jaws.  Because of Sandy’s threatening predilection to chomp on people and me being an exceedingly quick learner, I always made it a habit to don my steel-toed Wescos before engaging in any board games, partaking of meals, or drinking with Dinty.  You never knew when that crazy dog was going to wake up from some nutty dream and sink its teeth into your ankle.  It was kind of scary really.

Dinty was a coffee drinker like I was.  There was no messing around when it came to get the pot percolating.  Every morning I would build a fire, grab the water pail, and head down to the lake for water.  Sandy would watch me from the front porch of the cabin with her beady eyes hidden behind her curly mop, all the while eyeing my lower legs while I walked backward down the trail to the lake.  Can I just say it?  I did not harbor any love or affection for Sandy VI.

Returning with the water was a different matter.  I always felt like I had an advantage and that I was carrying protection.  It was evident that some hired girl from a previous year had baptized the dog at least once.

I am surprised to say that that dog actually grew on me in an admiring sort of way.  There was something about the tenacity and fierceness that she directed toward life.  That summer alone, Sandy VI was bitten by a rattle snake, kicked by a horse, and lost for a week on the other side of the ridge.  I watched as some nice person, who must have found her, boated her back to Dinty’s dock and dropped her off without a howdy doo to Dinty.  He probably was so glad to be rid of her that he didn’t wait around for any thanks.

During a thunder and lightning storm, Sandy VI jumped over three ricks of split firewood in the woodshed and then couldn’t jump back over to freedom.  It took an afternoon of taking apart the woodpile and then restacking it to liberate her.  My thanks?  She just went tearing off into the yard, barking at the sky and daring it to throw another lightning bolt her way.

After I figured out that she was just plain loco and not targeting just me, I relaxed a little bit.  After all, what harm did it do me to keep my knee-high, engineer-style Wescos on the for entire blistering summer heat . . . my feet never once having opportunity to receive a single ounce of vitamin D while wearing any of my beloved flip-flops?  And was it really that bad wondering if my hand was going to be snarfed off anytime I went to fill her food bowl?  Or how about those daily chess games when my legs would go to sleep for fear of moving them and having my boots gnawed at?  No, it was all good.  The best summer of my life.

My hired-girl gig was over in late September and I gave Dinty a hug on the front porch, the walk down to the dock to see me off being a bit of a chore for the old guy.  In spite of my relationship with his beloved Sandy VI, you couldn’t help but love Dinty.  His was a personality that you don’t see much of anymore.  A man who kept to himself, chose solitude over the madding crowd, and lived the life he had chosen for himself without complaint.  I felt some tears roll down my cheeks as I gave him one last hug.

As I was backing down the driveway, one eye on Sandy VI, with my gear, Dinty called out, “You know.  You’re the only one who made it through the whole season.”  I think I could have told him why, when I saw Sandy eyeing me with her beady eyes for that one last opportunity to sink her Kujo jaws into my calf.  But . .  through all of this . . . I learned one important lesson.  Never judge a man by the canine company he keeps.  There is disparity all over the world that we don’t understand, and this was one of those moments when I felt as if it all made sense.  Companionship sometimes trumps a little bit of unpleasantness.  We’ve all done it. And we’ll keep doing it.

At that compliment/confession, I dropped my pack and gave Dinty one more hug.  That was the one time that summer when I walked down the road to the dock facing forward. I couldn’t walk backward.  Had I done so, I would have had to witness Dinty standing there  . . . alone for the winter . . . with his Sandy pacing the porch in front of him.  I kept my eyes looking forward to the dock and the pick-up boat that was going to take me back to the land of roads, cars, and grocery stores.

Dinty and I exchanged the occasional letter after that season.  Two years later, I received an official-looking letter that I almost discarded as junk mail.  Turns out it was from a lawyer’s office, Dinty’s lawyer.  The letter instructed me to call the office, as I had been noted as an heir regarding some such item.  I called the office, wondering what the heck, only to learn that I had inherited none other than Sandy VI.  The lawyer read a brief note that Dinty had left saying that I was the one hired girl that Sandy had “loved the most.”

I couldn’t believe it.  So what would you do?  I gassed up my car and drove halfway across the state to the kennel where the poor dog was temporarily incarcerated.  When I took one look at that dejected mess of heart-heavy dog behind that wire cage, I almost started to cry.  All alone.  Missing her only master in the entire world.  Imprisoned.  It was really sad.  That is until the damned dog recognized me or my scent or something and she came out of her depressed state like a rattlesnake to lunge at the wire gate with her teeth showing.

Somehow, and I don’t know how, Sandy VI and I came to an understanding.  She came home with me.  I was living in a dinky cabin on some national forest land at the time and Sandy VI had acres where she could run and be a terror to the territory.  We eventually found an uneasy truce, but I was still pretty careful whenever she was under the kitchen table.  Some habits die hard.

In honor of Sandy and Dinty . . . and my love of boots, shoes, and sandals . . . check out this fabulous footwear.  I still have that same pair of Wescos in the back of my closet.  Yes, I could be considered to be a hoarder, but those boots speak to a time when I was young enough to have the world at my traveling fingertips and dumb enough to think that taking on an inherited dog would include a Hollywood moment or two.

Truth?  There were no Hollywood moments.  But I feel that I did the right thing by rescuing that dog.  There are those times in our lives when we do the right thing and it doesn’t feel like much of a reward at the time.  But I think that this is probably the reward within itself.  Maybe rewards have a way of sneaking up on you.  They hide in cupboards and closets like those Wesco boots.

I think I know why I have kept those boots.

Wesco Boss 11″ Engineer Boots 7700100

http://amzn.to/2bHD3fV

. . . and what would have been a good summer alternative!
Wesco Men’s Custom Jobmaster Boot BKBE106100F Black/Beige

http://amzn.to/2bcJN4e

. . . and the summer shoes I WANTED to be wearing that summer. . . the favorites that my Sissy always sends me for my birthday.
Teva Women’s Olowahu Flip-Flop

http://amzn.to/2bHDYNv

Some Fierce Boots & A Dearth of Spirituality

putting on fierce bootsI remember the time when someone told me that I was buying way too many boots and heels . . . and that if I only spent the same amount of energy on my spiritual life as I did on buying new shoes, I would be a much happier person.  Yep.  Someone told me this as I was going through my urban coffee days — as a top-notch barista in a singularly-popular coffee shop, sporting a green apron and pushing beverages to the  Needy Uncaffeinated .

This good-advice person’s name was Ernest, and I took his advice as Ernest  being Earnest.  At the time, I appreciated Ernest’s insights.  After all, it isn’t often that someone tells you at the hand-off bar that you could use a whole lot more spirituality in your soul.   It’s the sort of thing that makes you stand up a little straighter and take notice of your foot apparel for that particular day.  And while Ernest certainly  hit one of the nails on the head, there were yet a whole lot more nails dotting the board a’waiting some serious banging.  It was a time of life when a whole lot of is were waiting to be dotted and a lot of ts were hoping to be crossed . . . in other words, I was experiencing Life just like everyone else — what with it being so uncertain and all.  The best word for that time of my life could be summed up as: Major Transition. and we all know that Periods of Transition can use a Goodly Dose of Imminent Spirituality.  

Transition.  Not a bad thing, transition.  I look back now, what with hindsight being so great and all,  and connect the Scattered Dots that have led me to today . . .  with Now being pretty darned great in comparison to Then.  Life has its moments and its cycles.  And I am the first to say that I am always glad when I am out of my Frail-Souled, Boot-Buying Paradigm.  However . . . please, let there be a however in this story’s moral.

Here’s the However: Ernest’s Sage Words aside, there is nothing wrong with feeling a moment of joy when buying and wearing a  super-cute pair of shoes or boots.  This little tale is in no way meant to serve as a warning to those of you who have a passion for buying Boots, Heels, or Sandals.  After all, the purchase of such items need not mean that your Soul is experiencing a Dearth of Integrity.  It just means that you have Fun wearing your boots.  Simple.  I have spent many a happy hour, fighting off the Challenges of Transition as I danced my boot heels into oblivion on the dance floor.

I think of Ernest on occasion — especially when I am looking in my Shoe Closet.  He was a kind soul who meant extremely well and who carried with him an Eye for Spirituality — and its Lack Therein.  He was a good person who could see Life Conflict written on me and who believed that putting those Boot Dollars into a 401K would have served me in a much better way.  Maybe Ernest was right.  I don’t know, but I do think that his heart was in the right place by speaking up and putting it out there.

Life is a lively event.  Wear your boots with fun in your heart, drink coffee, and get to it.

What’s stopping you?  xox Boots

As for the boots below . . . I want!

Ariat Women’s Unbridled Roper Western Cowboy Boot

http://amzn.to/290EaIY

Ariat Women’s Showbaby Western Boot

http://amzn.to/292NZYV

Ariat Women’s Fatbaby Heritage Vivid Western Cowboy Boot

http://amzn.to/28WwNn8

A Cup of Coffee, Freebird Boots, & Lynyrd Skynyrd

Good morning, People!  Yay for Thursday!

Grab a cup of coffee, scroll to the bottom of this post, click on the music link courtesy of the good Lynyrd Skynyrd, and check out these Thursday boots.  The Sadie boots and Mabel boots are especially cute!

Life is a lively event.  Pull on some boots, drink some coffee, and get to it.

What’s stopping you?

good morning coffee cup

These boots need no special occasion . . . they are for everyday fun.  Happy shopping!

Freebird Women’s Sabra Boot

http://amzn.to/1WOgMkU

Freebird Women’s Sadie Boot

http://amzn.to/1UwILna

Freebird Women’s Mabel Boot

http://amzn.to/1PuXDNd

Freebird Women’s Phoenix Low Boot

http://amzn.to/1sHhOmd

Freebird Women’s Belle Boot

http://amzn.to/1UwK7y6

Freebird Women’s Chief Boot

http://amzn.to/1UwKlFE

Freebird Women’s Sammi Boot

http://amzn.to/1PuYlKg

Time to jubilate! It’s Friday!

Have a Brewlicious Friday!  Life is a lively effort.  Have some coffee and get to it!

Spur (Small) boots signatureWith love and xox, Boots the Badass Coffee Babe

 

brewlicious friday

And while you’re jubilating, check out these awesome Old Gringo Leopardito Western Boots & Texas Longhorn 16-pt Jingle Bob Spurs & some darling belts to accessorize for a kick-up-your-heels yee-haw Friday!


http://amzn.to/25Osd1f


http://amzn.to/24E0avk


http://amzn.to/1OfpCFz


http://amzn.to/1PjqKTv