Are there any words more dear to a woman’s heart than “shoe sale?” There’s just something about a sea of markdowns that we cannot resist. This past weekend some friends and I were in Birmingham, Alabama, for the funeral of another friend’s mother. After the service, we needed some therapeutic girl-time, and there’s no better place than a sale at Southern department-store icon Belk. It’s definitely the place to be, female-wise. My friends were on the hunt for specific shoes for upcoming weddings and christenings and I’m always open to the siren song of possibility — “I don’t really need these 4-inch purple snakeskin platform sandals or these bright turquoise-and-yellow pointy-toe flats but you never know when they might come in handy.” That is, I was open to possibilities of expanding my own personal shoe options until somehow, from many miles away, my husband felt the cosmic vibration of me being in the middle of a shoe sale and called to forestall any impulsively major purchase. How does he do that???