Friends, Footwear, and Flying Figs

I had coffee with Petunia Tune this morning. I'm so grateful to have friends, as they give me a reason to write. I write for them, and often I write about them. Miss Tune and I spoke, among many topics, about the fascinating variety of personalities in just our circle of friends. I'm glad to have several friends who are all so different and funny and quirky. (I can say that because I know they wouldn't hesitate to say that about-or to-me.) After some intellectual chit-chat with Petunia, I went shoe shopping. I am looking for a somewhat formal looking off-road sandal that is good for walking. In my wish list for shoes, I don't give a flying fig about fashion; it's all about durability and utility for me. Mr. M and I often have to walk a mile or so from the parking lot to the church building on a Sunday morning, and I want a shoe that will allow me to walk that at a brisk pace with full support. Also, sometime in my adventurous life-it was probably in high school when a friend and I were chased around the block by a group of unruly and mischievous boys while she was in high heels and I was barefoot, neither of which were ideal-that I decided I needed to always be ready for any eventuality. That means that the shoes I choose to wear on Sunday must also be adequate if, by any chance, someone was to kidnap me on the way to church and leave me stranded in a remote frozen tundra. For the better part of my adult life, I have worn shoes to bed. I've always taken a lot of heat from friends for that; they say it is "stupid" or "unnecessary" or "ridiculous." Persnicketta finally persuaded me to take off my shoes before retiring for the night. I didn't find my shoes today, but I will begin the hunt anew tomorrow.