This past Memorial Day weekend, my wife, M.F., and I drove across several states to visit my father and his fiance in their new manse by a lake. Along the way, and at his suggestion, we picked up my father's mother, Weezie, and her "boyfriend", Ol' Willie. They're both in their mid-eighties, so he thought it best that they not drive several hours on the highways by their lonesome.
Weezie apparently thought so as well, for she remarked several times from the backseat of our kickass car, with a wicked gleam in her eye and a sidelong glance at Ol' Willie, "Boy, I sure am glad FatD is driving. We'd like to have never made it if..." {with quick nod toward Ol' Willie}.
After the last provocation, Ol' Willie made the fatal error of answering it thusly, "Woman, I am perfectly capable of..."
Weezie cut him off: "What about them shoes, then?"
"You just can't let that story go, can you?" he replied with a head-shaking and, considering his age, quite convincing weariness.
"What shoes?" M.F. asked.
Ol' Willie, it turned out, only wears Reeboks and only one type of Reebok; the Geezer2000 AARP SuperShufflers, I believe they are. He owns several pairs in several colors, which he matches to his trousers of the day, but his khaki-colored shoes had worn out. Before the trip, he had made a trip to the shoe store and purchased a replacement pair of 8-and-a-halfs, which is the size, he told us, that he's worn for the past 60 years. When he got them home and tried them on, however, they pinched his toes something fierce. After having tried to break them in a bit, he gave up and returned to the store to exchange them for a less painful pair. Remarkably, the second pair also pinched his toes something fierce, so he began to wonder if there might be something odd about the sizing of the shoes. He returned to the store with the second pinching pair, cursing the Chinese and their metric system the whole way, and traded them in for a pair of 9s.
He took the 9s to Weezie's house, which happened to be somewhat closer to the shoe store, and put them on to do some work in the yard. However, the 9s also pinched his toes something fierce, so he shook his fist at the skies; swore, "Damn those Chinese! They can't get the damned sizes right!"; and began to drive back to the shoe store to return another pair, this time with a bemused Weezie in tow.
He muttered and muttered about Chinese shoemakers the whole way there, and finally Weezie, fed up with his muttering, said, "Let me look at those shoes, you crazy old man!"
Weezie gave them a once-over, reached her hand inside them, and pulled a wad of tissue paper from the toes.
"And that's why," she crowed at the end of her tale, "I'm glad that FatD is driving."
"Ha!" Ol' Willie replied, "That don't mean anything. What makes you think he's any more likely to get us there than me?"
"Well," I answered thoughtfully and adjusted my sandals, "For one thing, I'm wearing open-toed shoes."
Weezie apparently thought so as well, for she remarked several times from the backseat of our kickass car, with a wicked gleam in her eye and a sidelong glance at Ol' Willie, "Boy, I sure am glad FatD is driving. We'd like to have never made it if..." {with quick nod toward Ol' Willie}.
After the last provocation, Ol' Willie made the fatal error of answering it thusly, "Woman, I am perfectly capable of..."
Weezie cut him off: "What about them shoes, then?"
"You just can't let that story go, can you?" he replied with a head-shaking and, considering his age, quite convincing weariness.
"What shoes?" M.F. asked.
Ol' Willie, it turned out, only wears Reeboks and only one type of Reebok; the Geezer2000 AARP SuperShufflers, I believe they are. He owns several pairs in several colors, which he matches to his trousers of the day, but his khaki-colored shoes had worn out. Before the trip, he had made a trip to the shoe store and purchased a replacement pair of 8-and-a-halfs, which is the size, he told us, that he's worn for the past 60 years. When he got them home and tried them on, however, they pinched his toes something fierce. After having tried to break them in a bit, he gave up and returned to the store to exchange them for a less painful pair. Remarkably, the second pair also pinched his toes something fierce, so he began to wonder if there might be something odd about the sizing of the shoes. He returned to the store with the second pinching pair, cursing the Chinese and their metric system the whole way, and traded them in for a pair of 9s.
He took the 9s to Weezie's house, which happened to be somewhat closer to the shoe store, and put them on to do some work in the yard. However, the 9s also pinched his toes something fierce, so he shook his fist at the skies; swore, "Damn those Chinese! They can't get the damned sizes right!"; and began to drive back to the shoe store to return another pair, this time with a bemused Weezie in tow.
He muttered and muttered about Chinese shoemakers the whole way there, and finally Weezie, fed up with his muttering, said, "Let me look at those shoes, you crazy old man!"
Weezie gave them a once-over, reached her hand inside them, and pulled a wad of tissue paper from the toes.
"And that's why," she crowed at the end of her tale, "I'm glad that FatD is driving."
"Ha!" Ol' Willie replied, "That don't mean anything. What makes you think he's any more likely to get us there than me?"
"Well," I answered thoughtfully and adjusted my sandals, "For one thing, I'm wearing open-toed shoes."
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Hope you're well.