Dear Kid,

Once upon a time, there were no shoes. Then Mrs. Joe Neanderthal had a pedicure and refused to walk on her smooth, leathery feet until she had appropriate footwear. Shoes were invented.

Not too long thereafter, the designer shoe category was created when Blorg accidentally chewed on one of Mrs. Joe’s shoes giving it an edgy appearance. Everyone wanted Blorg-chewed shoes and an industry was born.

As you know, I belong to the cult of DSW (patron saint Imelda Marcos), but there are some things in the history of shoes that seem to me have been major fashion faux pas.

The French phrase faux pas (literally false step) is a noun meaning a social blunder or indiscretion. The plural form is spelled the same, but while the singular faux pas is pronounced foh-PAH, the plural faux pas is pronounced foh-PAHZ.

For example, in the ninth and tenth centuries, the greatest princes in Europe wore wooden shoes. The shoes were not known as Splinter Spitters, but they should have been. They may have, however, been the inspiration for the story of Androcles and the Lion. (Try not to get caught up in the timing which clearly doesn’t work.)

Presumably, Catherine de Medici (of those de Medicis) invented high heels for women. Not sure whether to adore her or loathe her but I’m strongly leaning toward adoration.

In the seventeenth century, the European upper crust wore six-inch heels. If you are thinking that would be difficult to walk in, you are quite correct (give yourself an extra point). The elite needed a servant on each side to hold them up. The shoes were not known as Two Servant Shoes, but they should have been.

My rule: If you can’t walk in them, don’t wear them.

The corollary: If you can’t walk in them without looking like a colt trying to stand up for the first time, don’t wear them.

The corollary to the corollary: If you’re even slightly concerned that they make you look like a hooker, they do.

During Richard II’s reign, shoes got slightly out of hand (or out of foot). They were supported by being tied to the knees with chains because they were so long. They were not known as Pinocchio shoes, but they should have been.

In 1463, the English parliament passed an act forbidding shoes with spikes more than two inches in length being worn. These shoes were not known as Attack shoes, but they should have been.

If you ever have more money than you know what to do with, you may feel free to consider buying me these stork shoes from Kobi Levy. Just a thought.

Love, Mom

Former Philippine First Lady Imelda Marcos owned 1,200 pairs of shoes.

Dear Kid,

There are lots of great things about the summer. Fresh fruit, long days at the pool, summer concerts, the opportunity to launch a full-blown attack on moles—the list goes on. Here are five of my favorite things about summer.

Flip flops

There is something about flip flops that just screams “summer happy!” Maybe it’s the bright colorfulness or maybe it’s the onomonopia-ness of the walking in them or maybe it’s just that my toes get to wiggle when I wear flip flops. The reason doesn’t really matter. What matters is that they say “summer” and make my feet happy.

No sleet

There are good things about winter, but sleet isn’t one of them. There is no such thing a gentle sleet, either. Sleet somehow is ragingly, unhappily aggressive, determined to get under your collar, into your eyes, and to turn the roads into skating rinks. It’s also ridiculously hard to scrape off the car. Next time the thermometer hits 97 degrees and the humidity is somewhere north of comfortable, remind yourself: no sleet today!

Hammocks

I don’t take advantage of the hammock in our backyard enough. I love relaxing in it, letting the trees shade me from the sun, hoping the mosquitos are still napping. Somehow, even looking at the hammock makes me relax a little and take on a little of that summer spirit.

Grilling

There are people who grill all year long, but none of them are in our family. During the winter, our grill is decommissioned and hidden away, not to reappear until mid-spring. While I am not the grill master, I love eating food cooked on the grill. Maybe because I’m not the grill master.

Long days

I love the long days of summer. I love waking up to sunshine (or almost sunshine) and ending my day with a little bit of light left. Somehow there seem to be more hours in a the day during the summer, and I manage to fill up each and every one of them.

What do you love about summer?

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Once upon a time there was a lovely princess. She was not the most beautiful, but she didn’t go around breaking any mirrors. She was not the smartest, but she might be the smartest you met on any given day. She was not the most athletic, but she had learned not to trip over her own feet (most of the time, anyway). And she like pretty shoes.

One day the princess was out walking (very far away from civilization) and stepped (accidentally) into a bit of swampy quick sand (don’t ask—this is a story—just go with it). The princess (and her pretty shoes) got very stuck in the swampy quick sand.

The first thing the princess did was to look around for a convenient way out of the swampy quick sand. There wasn’t one.

Then the princess shared some Very Interesting Words with any creatures close enough to hear. There weren’t any.

Then the princess got down to Thinking about how to get out of the SQS.

Fortunately, the princess had her cell phone with her. And one of her friends sent an Acquaintance to help the princess.

The Acquaintance was very nice to the princess. She made all the right sounds of distress at the mess the princess was in. She offered to help the princess. She even offered to help the princess clean her pretty shoes.

The princess was very grateful for the help since she did not like being stuck in swampy quick sand (and neither did her pretty shoes). The princess was So Grateful, she did not stop to consider that in stories like this the Acquaintance is usually not Glenda the Good Witch.

The Acquaintance helped the princess out of the SQS and invited her back to her home. Once the princess was inside the Acquaintance’s home, she (the princess) began to have a sense that something was Not Quite Right. The Acquaintance yelled at everyone. She turned her servants into trained monkeys. She fought with everyone in her family. She even yelled at the princess which seemed to the princess to be Very Bad Manners and mean spirited.

The princess was trapped. Soon she realized this was just another form of swampy quick sand, and she began Thinking about ways to escape.

But the Acquaintance’s home was Very, Very Far from civilization, and the princess was very fond of regular meals and pretty shoes, and she couldn’t figure out how to get back to her own home.

Many days went by. The princess became more and more unhappy—both for herself and for those around her.

Many, many more days went by. The Acquaintance began to act more and more like a lunatic. One day she told the princess to leave. The princess packed her things—but just as she was about to leave the Acquaintance locked the door and wouldn’t let her go. After that, the Acquaintance kept threatening to make the princess leave, but mostly the Acquaintance just made the princess more and more unhappy.

One day, in a fit of complete insanity, the Acquaintance decided to punish the princess. “You must leave my house,” she told the princess. “I will not give you any more food, or drink, or even pretty shoes. See how you like that!”

And she made the princess leave.

The princess was sad because she liked regular meals and pretty shoes. And she was sad because she knew she’d been a good houseguest. But she was also happy, because she finally had the chance to leave the Acquaintance’s house.

And she (and her pretty shoes) discovered they weren’t nearly as far from civilization as she’d thought.

The Acquaintance went on to make those around her miserable. The friend sent the princess a pair of shoes and an invitation to dinner. And the princess (and her shoes) went on to many more wonderful and happy adventures.

Love, Mom

P.S. If you think this is an allegory, you are most correct.

al·le·go·ry noun a representation of an abstract or spiritual meaning through concrete or material forms; figurative treatment of one subject under the guise of another.

Dear Kid,

Next Monday is Saint Patrick’s Day. This is very important because it is a marvelous time to get serious about looking for leprechauns.

Leprechauns are pretty interesting little dudes. In addition to keeping all their gold in the End of the Rainbow bank, they spend all their time making shoes (now do you see why I like them so much? Shoes and a hefty bank account. What’s not to love?)

Leprechauns are solitary creatures and not at all fond of being captured by humans. If one should be lucky enough to capture a leprechaun, the leprechaun will grant you three wishes in exchange for being set free. One must be particularly careful about choosing those wishes, Oh Best Beloved, because leprechauns are known for being practical jokers.

You have my full permission to begin searching for leprechauns now. If you catch one, I’ll be happy to offer my advice about the three wishes.

In the meantime, you might want to practice your Irish phrases for next week so that you will not be stuck with saying “Top o’ the Mornin’ to Ya” all day long. Here are five really good ones.

May you have the hindsight to know where you’ve been, the foresight to know where you are going, and the insight to know when you have gone too far.

You’ve got to do your own growing, no matter how tall your father was.

A good laugh and a long sleep are the two best cures.

Forgetting a debt doesn’t mean it’s paid.

May you get all your wishes but one, so that you will always have something to strive for!

and one bonus phrase in case you encounter anyone who is prone to using the phrases “it is a fact” when (in fact) it isn’t.

Pity him who makes an opinion a certainty.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

As I believe I have mentioned once or twice, it’s all a matter of perspective.

For example, some people (you) might think it is fun to go out in the freezing cold and kick a ball through the uprights while many (11) large, muscular, bulked up type people try to prevent said kick. Some people (you) might think it is fun to stand on ice, balanced on razor thin blades, waiting to prevent a puck moving at light speed from getting into a net. Other people (me) might be happy to watch those things (especially if you are involved), but under no circumstances whatsoever would even consider participating.

Some people (me) might think shoe shopping is one of Life’s Pleasures while other people (you) might think shoe shopping is ok if you’re getting a new pair of sneakers but honestly how many high heels can one mom try on? (answer: a lot).

I think, however, that I have found the Ultimate Example of this type of perspective.

Last night I went to a CAbi party. I had never attended one before—allow me to set the scene. Some hors d’oeuvres, some adult beverages, a dozen or so old middle age my age women (many of whom had never met before), and a boat load of clothes. Which were modeled by some of the attendees (the tall, skinny attendees) and discussed by Tammy, while we (all the attendees) studiously marked down the items we were interested in. After the modeling and the demonstrations, we got to try on the clothes.

It was awesome. Women of all shapes and sizes, laughing, throwing clothes everywhere, prancing around in our skivvies, trying on outfits to Figure Out the Right Size. (To be fair, no one really pranced.) I’d say a college age boy would probably not think that was a Grand Old Time, but I had lots of fun. I even bought a top (which will be delivered eventually and about which you will be kind enough to say something like “awesome top, mom”).

But as we were prancing (or not) it occurred to me that this was probably one of those moments aliens (and college boys, because in this case it’s close to the same thing) would never in a zillion years “get.” In fact, I would bet that many a college boy, walking in on such a scene, would mutter something about having to burn his eyes out (after grabbing some food and beverage) and hightail it for the nearest mancave and football game.

It’s all a matter of perspective.

Love, Mom

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