… my old pair of walking shoes this morning, much as I hated to do so.
But, it was time and the big hole in the sole looked something like that large gaping pothole that keeps opening up on the Rouge Bridge; you know … the one where you can see the neighborhood below the expressway while you’re driving over it.
Well, maybe the hole wasn’t that big, but I had 1,650 miles on those shoes and two new pair waiting in the wings, so I bade them farewell. When my next-to-last pair of walking shoes wore out, I went to buy new ones and they had discontinued the style. So, this time I was smart and bought two extra pair … just in case. I did keep intending to “start” another pair, but didn’t want blisters until they got broken in, so I just procrastinated – bigtime. This morning I finally unboxed the new shoes, and even wore my Summer walking socks (more procrastination – I’ve been wearing the cushioned Winter ones but decided since Summer might finally be here, I’d get into thinner socks).
Always the pessimist, I took myself and the car to Meijer to do a little shopping, thinking that if the new shoes caused a blister, I’d have the car to rely on for the trip home and not have to endure a 1 ½ mile walk from the store to my house. As I was ready to head out the door, I looked down at my new shoes, all pristine and bright white – they looked like they belonged on someone else’s feet. The old ones, admittedly, were getting shoddy looking.
These new shoes reminded me of when I got my first pair of canvas running shoes, as they used to be called back in the day. My parents got them at Sears and the brand name was “Jeepers”. They were a bright white canvas and I can still hear my mom telling me not to run through the freshly cut grass in my new Jeepers or they’d get stained green and look dirty. So, I wore them to the playground the next day, hell bent on keeping them looking good since, after all, I was a big girl now. So along comes a girl about my age to say “hi” and she looked down at my shoes, and immediately stomped on both of my feet while I stood there with my mouth wide open. She said “you got new shoes – you gotta get them dirty!” When I went home for dinner that night and told my folks that story, my mother said “you have an overactive imagination Linda!”
Occasionally, those childhood memories I’ve conjured up are not so pleasant …