These Boots Are Made For Walking

     Over the last few days, I have spent a little time thinking about my feet. I spend a little time everyday thinking about mischief. So, it's only natural to assume that those trains of thoughts may cross at some point. That happened today.

     As I stepped onto the back porch early this morning, I was faced with a choice. Like a battalion of infantry soldiers lined up for morning inspection, there they stood at attention- awaiting their orders. Assuming the role of general, I inspected the lineup closely. Boots and shoes awaited my perusal. Tennis shoes and muck shoes, rubber boots and cowboy boots, leather soles and crepe soles- all were carefully aligned into two neat rows.

     Glancing at the light filtering through the six panes of the back door, I surmised that it was dreary outside. I listened more carefully and could hear the gentle fall of raindrops on the roof of the porch just beyond the door. In the systematic way that a human makes decisions, I eliminated my usual choice- the tennis shoes. Moving on to the second row of footwear, I began to look closely at the options there. Since it was raining, it would be important that I choose a boot which would be hardy but comfort was always a concern. Any top model (or cowboy) can tell you, it is very important that your boot fit well and be suitable for the job you are doing.

     The choice before me weighed heavy on my mind. The boots in the line were constructed of several different types of hides. I recalled a saleswoman's face as I glanced fleetingly at the black Stingray boots. They were so attractive with the signature white "eye" on the top of the boot. I remembered her promise that the hide was durable and rugged as I noted the cut on the side of one of them. Because of the rainy day, I dismissed the holey boot and looked further down the line. Too new- too fancy- too red. Everyone seemed too something today.

     Feeling somewhat like Robert Frost in a yellow wood, I chose a different path. Pulling on my rubber boots, I stepped outside. Much like a child feeling the need to test her boundaries, I stepped directly into a puddle in my path rather than stepping around it. That seemed to go well so I looked ahead and saw another puddle. Deciding to push my luck a little, I stepped into that puddle with a little more force. The water droplets splooshed! Captivated by the sound of the water as it exploded under my feet, I stepped into another puddle. Again, sploosh!

     Just as I splooshed into yet another puddle, the sound of a door closing jarred me from my hypnotic game. I glanced around into disapproving eyes. For a brief moment, I felt as if I were a child again, caught up in the wonder of making a grand mess.

     Wayne cleared his throat and said "If I'd known we were river dancing, I would have worn my rubber boots, too." I stared at him with a long glance, deciding my next move as he approached me. Should I? Did I dare? Just as he was adjacent to me, he pushed one syllable too far, "Well, are you coming?"

     By that time, the puddle which I had been standing in had recovered from my previous stomp. The water had filled back in to surround my rubber boots as if it had never been disturbed. And, the little voice of reason in my head was silenced for the moment. I stomped with both feet and began my best imitation of Irish Step Dancing.

     Later, after changing both of our jeans to drier, more clean pairs, we finally left for the post office. Interestingly enough, not another word was uttered today about my wardrobe choice, about my rubber boots, and my dear sweet husband took me out to lunch. There are certain reasons why we choose to love the people we do. I would cite today as an example of that!