Sitting barefoot on the screened porch.
This is a great place to knock back the Minneapolis Star Tribune, the New York Times, and a handful of on-line news aggregators. Barefoot. The stuff doesn’t seem as serious this way. Or as deep.
Shoe-less. Maybe we should demand that Congress shall enact no laws while wearing shoes. It’s difficult to take yourself serious while wriggling your toes in the carpet.
Now that the summer porch is up, naturally my thoughts turn to the theater. Cooking outdoors is always high drama at our proscenium. I prefer the hibachi which fits neatly on the front banister and still leaves room for the mailman and the occasional visitor from FedEx.
Space is tight. The opening flames are only a couple of feet from the awning. I know what you are thinking. But the neighbors across the street always call the fire department with time to spare.
Oops. I hear the Mystery Woman coming down the stairs. She’s wearing shoes. We must be going somewhere.
Hon, have you seen my shoes anywhere?