I wonder if The Commander would’ve approved of these loverly purple sandals. I’m pretty sure that she would not have approved of the color although she’d’ve probably kept her mouth shut. I am gonna venture to guess that she might have recognized their functionality for Michigan backwoods style hiking expotitions. She *may* have gotten a kick out of the fact that they kind of look like aliens.

One of the worst hiking expotitions I have ever been on (in terms of footwear, that is) is the time I let The Commander talk me into wearing something besides what I had *planned* on wearing. Here’s the thing. The Commander had expertise in a variety of subjects. If you had a question about cooking or baking or sewing or you wanted to have an intellectual discussion about a book or any number of things that I’m not pulling out of my memory banks at the moment, The Commander would definitely be a person you might consult. Hiking or swimming or kayaking or skiing expotitions? Not so much. (Although she did own a kayak…)

A few years ago, when both The Comm and Radical Betty were still on this side, the GG and I went on a late fall North Country Trail hiking expotition between the lower and upper falls at Tahquamenon. The Commander eyeballed my Teva sandals and asked something like, “You aren’t going to go hiking in THOSE, are you?” Well, yes, I was. There was a little snow around but nothing too deep for hiking sandals and smartwool socks. She rummaged around and pulled out an absolutely ANCIENT pair of “hiking boots” of hers and strongly suggested that I wear those. I was not convinced. Old technology is not necessarily better when it comes to footwear, not to mention that The Commander’s feet were a whole size larger than mine are!

The Comm and the GG (sorry but you did) kind of ganged up on me and shamed me into wearing those stupid old boots. What a disaster. They didn’t fit! They didn’t fit! They didn’t fit! I KNEW they wouldn’t fit. I sloshed along in those crappy old boots all the way from the lower falls to the upper falls. Whatever socks I was wearing kept sliding down under my heel and I would have to stop and unlace the boots (yes, they had LACES!) and pull my socks back up. Lather, rinse, repeat. Yeeesh!

I’ll have to replace these cute little purple alien sandals with boots soon enough but they are loverly for the kind of mildly strenuous hiking I do here in the Great Lake State when there isn’t more than a couple inches of snow. They fit me like glubs, and they are WASHABLE! In fact, I think I will run them through the washing musheen when I get back to the Landfill tomorrow. Mrs. Commander, you were a great moom and I love you but I do not miss your concern about my footwear. Alas, now that I think about it, that concern (and all the goddamn Buster Brown shoes of my youth, etc.) probably stemmed from the fact that I was born with a “crooked” foot. I wore a “brace” for a while to correct it. I was not born perfect and The Comm remained concerned about my feet throughout her life.

Anyway… Raking the leaves here at the Group Home this morning was, as a friend with a cabin on L. Huron says, “work with a view”. We raked through rain and snow and hail (?). The form of precipitation changed by the minute. There were pretty high winds throughout the whole thing and some blazing appearances by Mr. Golden Sun. It took us a full morning to do the leaves but it was fun and exhilarating and our load was lightened by others who have raked in recent weeks.

Note to self: The next time you are raking leaves at Houghton Lake and an Old Fart comes along and stops his pickup truck to be jolly with the GG, when he asks the GG, “Is she the muscle?” your answer is not, “I am the muscle”. It is, “I am the muscle *and* the brain”. [insert error aminal here…]

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