Ugly Shoe Season

The second Blizzard of the Century is going on outside the window. I’m about a foot from the panes and it’s a comin’ down. Which has me thinking about all kinds of things like baking up a batch of chocolate chip cookies this afternoon, snuggling with my kitty and a good book, and, see the title up there? Yup – ugly shoe season.

I’ve been wearing the same clod hopper pair of shoes for over two winters now. They’re charcoal gray, of sturdy bottom and there’s a cradle I’ve worn into the insole that perfectly fits my foot. But – they’re pretty ugly.

Over the weekend I was privileged to appear on an author’s panel with five other writers. We were in a very nice library and it occurred to me that my shoes would be showing under the table, up front where God and everybody could see them. I briefly considered wearing my cute little flats with the little faux bow on the toe (say That three times fast). They make my feet look small – kind of like Miss Muffet sitting on her tuffet. Remember her? Message me if you find out what a tuffet is.  

Anyway, as I dressed for the event, and thought more profoundly about the whole business, it occurred to me that I might be enticing interest away from our panel’s excellent tips and advice if I wore the wrong shoes. Then I thought . . . good grief . . . what if a guy with a shoe fetish sits right in the front row? What if, instead of listening while I tell everyone why I don’t have an agent, he slowly licks his lips while gazing at the bow on my toe? Yeesh. We were, after all, talking about murder and its methods and taking questions about it, too. What if the fetish guy raised his hand? I didn’t even want to go there. So the faux bow toe shoes stayed in the closet.

You know, it’s hard to tell where your shoes will take you these days. You can bebop merrily down the road in your clod hoppers directing everyone’s attention to your books and your witty remarks about them. Or you can tempt fate and take what fate hands you when  you put on your cute shoes. The other road, the one  you clomp down in your ugly shoes, is probably safer. Well, unless you run across someone who can’t imagine wearing the same pair of shoes two days in a row nevermind all winter. But that’s a whole other, shoe worshiper, issue. They can get nasty.

As for me? I’ve made an executive decision. For now and for the rest of the winter, my sturdy, gray, salt spotted shoes will get me where I want to go. After all, it is ugly shoe season. And, no, you can’t see a picture of them. Look at my pretty ones instead. I’ll show you my cute summer sandals in a few months. Unless you have a fetish, that is.