an ode to shoes

These are my most recent shoes. I really liked them, and would still be wearing them now but for the fact that, hidden in this picture, there is a wide tear across the bottom of the the shoe with its sole turned up.

I discovered this hole in my shoe as I was putting groceries into the trunk of the car. I'm sure, as I was turning from shopping cart to trunk there was some final last straw of friction as I felt my sock quite rapidly become completely drenched, the cold setting in immediately. It was a rainy night here in K-patch, much like tonight.

These shoes are almost exactly the sort of thing I tend to wear most waking moments of my day. I'm weird in that way, that I much prefer to have shoes on than not. Momma and both boys are not like this at all, especially The Boy who sees walking inside as an invitation to remove shoes and socks at the first possibly moment.

The major difference in these shoes and recent shoes is the near obscene amount of white, though technically this color, when the shoes were new, was actually called "milk."

The shoes that came before these are still wearable, another pair of black suede Converse, though the only thing on them not black is the logo. They became the grass cutting shoes when I finally settled on these as their replacement. So the space between the tongue and the laces on them is stuffed with little bits of dead, dry grass. They were also always a bit too big, and with their years of service they've become just too floppy for regular duty.

And now, until we get a couple of bucks to invest in footwear, I'm stuck wearing my old work boots. It's sad how weird I am about having to wear shoes, because these Sears brand sons of bitches stink and are not the most comfortable housewear on the planet. They're great for standing in the kitchen, but they suck of kicking back with a beer. I either need to get over this shoe thing or get some new shoes.