Work In Progress

[Iain]

NTL's fine watercolour convinced me to post this.

Work In Progress 2013

 

[ntl]

THOSE are BOOTS!

 

[Artyczar]

My work shoes are not boots. They are old black leather Birkenstocks shoes. We should make a thread of all our work shoes maybe.

 

[Iain]

I remember when my mother took me to get my first pair of School shoes, aged 11/12, and I picked out the most outlandish ones.They had pointed toes, a zip and buckles that fastened over the zip. The metal on the buckles and the heel made a sound when you moved, like a gunslinger at noon. "You want those?" I didn't care about the rest of the world when I was in those shoes! Of course, I would soon get with the program and live in the glib "trainer." My first pair of those were Rebok and they were comparatively expensive to the homogeneous basketball trainer that went before.

I guess my sweaty old work boots aren't a hit. Sometimes I wonder what is wrong with other people.

 

[Artyczar]

What are you talking about? I love those sweaty old boots!

 

[Iain]

I was given a pair of Birkenstock sandals, but the bump which supports the arch of the foot (the plantar fascia) is in the wrong place and painfully sticks into the foot. One is left to walk like a Chaplin character while grimacing like a chimpanzee.

 

[Artyczar]

It's actually not funny. I'm sorry to hear that. I know that it does take some wearing to get your personal footprint indented into Birks. I've had mine for many years and new ones suck. It's important to get the right size and the right width. Or maybe you have strange feet. That's a possibility.

I'm still too lazy to get up off my ass and take a pic of my black work shoes.

 

[Iain]

Or maybe you have strange feet. That's a possibility.

Coincedently, I was grimacing like a chimpanzee behind the mask at that.

Speaking of feet. I drew some toes the other day. They look like they are coming through our letter box. The box has bristles or something to stop people posting shit, both literally and metaphorically. Hardly a deterrent.

"I will not abide another toe!"

 

[snoball]

I was going to ask about the missing toe before I read the caption.

 

[Iain]

The caption came later And to think, I have all five toes. All I had to do was count them.

Let's just say I'm a 'right-brained" person, discard any misgivings we might have over that theory and silently move on, thankful we have all of our digits intact and no longer need them to count our blessings or anything...

Well, you don't.

Left-brained.
Right-brained.
Hair-brained.

 

[snoball]

The caption came later And to think, I have all five toes. All I had to do was count them.

Left-brained.
Right-brained.
Hair-brained.

I'm afraid I fall into the last category. Or maybe scatter-brained.

 

[Iain]

We would never have guessed. Honest.

 

[Iain]

Or maybe scatter-brained.

On second thoughts...

 

[Desforges]

Well I will admit that I have an assortment of Crocs which are ugly I admit but they fit me like a glove, maybe a boxing glove. And of course, Birks that I wear until the sole comes off layer by layer.

 

[Iain]

That's what i wear about the house! Well, a cheap imitation of the Croc.

This is propitious. I had an idea of having my own range of dinner set. CROCkery. Of course, I am happy enough for it to stay a bad pun.

 

[Desforges]

Love it!
There you go, if you want to punk rock it.

 

[Iain]

I like spikes and chains, but I am quite conservative: I never wear them outside the dungeon.

 

[Desforges]

As far as boots go, I have a pair of steel toed ones but find them heavy as I am starting to wobble a little in my old age. I prefer crocs with wool socks, you know?
My cowboy friend gave me a pair of mukluks for Christmas a few years ago. I haven’t been able to wear them, I keep seeing the rabbits. It a no go!

 

[Iain]

I cannot wear crocs without socks. It doesn't feel good. As a kid, wool and even the starchy school shirts would torment me simply by being next to my skin. It was interesting to note that that is a relatively common concern of people with autism.

Cowboy boots. I remember emerging from an Edinburgh pub wearing Western style boots and having to negotiate a granite cobblestone slope that was covered in ice. I was in my early thirties and, in that moment, considered tacklng the slope on my backside. I don't know how I made it down. My dignity must have been in tatters.

 

[ntl]

That was an experience!