The Case of the Missing Shoe

My sneakers have been the talk of my family for over a year now.  I bought them in Florida on a family vacation in 2008 and they have been the best sneakers ever.  So lightweight you almost feel barefoot, made extra-wide for my sasquatch width feet, and have big holes decoratively placed around the entire shoe so that your feet can breathe, ok, maybe not so much decorative as strategically placed so your feet feel cool on hot days.  After 5 years of wearing them almost daily, those strategically placed holes have become the bain of my family's existence.  They think they're more like deadly, ozone depleting, blow holes that shove the smell out every time I take a step.  Or, even worse, when I take off the shoes instead of the odor only coming out the hole where you insert your foot, the odor comes out from all sides, so there is no safe haven from them.  I have to admit they have developed a slight fragrance to them, but I can't smell it when they're on my feet.  Recently, I thought my family had become very sensitive to the sappiness of some commercials because as soon as I'd sit down and relax with them after dinner, their eyes would all start to water.  Mike and the kids brought to my attention that said eye-watering ironically coincides with when I take off my shoes.  This from the same people who throw their still wet clothes or towels in the hamper where the mold then grows to such an extent that when it's laundry day, I have to battle Godzilla as soon as I open the hamper lid.  Last night after having worked all day on the kitchen renovation, I needed to pull my car into the garage and went to put on my shoes but only found one - the other was missing.  Being different from my kids, I like to take off my shoes together in one place and not have to go on a search and find mission for a lost shoe.  But at my age it certainly wouldn't be outside the realm of possibilities to find it inside my toothpaste drawer or in the medicine closet. I looked under the dinner table, the sofas, behind the swivel rocker, end tables and tv cabinet.  I even went so far as to go into my bathroom to see if I'd left it in there by mistake.  Nothing.  Completely baffled I sat down to try and remember where I might have left my shoe when all of the sudden there was a tap on my shoulder.  It was my son.........holding my missing shoe.  "Are you missing a shoe Mom?", he asked.  Completely bewildered and wondering what he was doing with my shoe I replied "Yes, how did you know and why do you have it?".  He smiled "Well, apparently Sophie (our puppy) is a thief and stole it.  She must've grabbed it and jumped up on my bed with it before the odor caused her to pass out.".  "Did her jumping up on the bed wake you?".  "Nah, the smell of the sneaker woke me up out of a sound sleep.".  Ah well, at least my sneakers are easy to find.........

by: Christie Bielss