vituperation

June 27, 2003

I went to Just For Feet last Wednesday to get some new shoes, because my feet have recently begun hurting, especially when I’m doing the bone-jarring cardio portion of my workout. Turns out I’d pretty much worn out my $30 pair of cheapie Reeboks after just a few months of use. Chalk that up to a lesson learned about buying the cheap shoes.

In any case, I was standing in the back of the store looking at the wall full of cross-training shoes. I figured cross-trainers would probably be good for both weight training and walkjogging, and I was looking for a pair of New Balance shoes that Runner’s World’s web site recommended for my needs.

I was having no luck finding this shoe.

"Sir, may I help you find something?" a sales associate asked, walking up to me.

"Do you guys have the New Balance 1005 in a size 12?"

Her brow wrinkled.

"No sir, we don’t carry that model any more. Can I help you find a different one?"

"Is there someone here who’s like, a shoe guru, maybe like the Dalai Lama of shoes?" I asked, having once learned a hard lesson about buying the recommendation of a teenaged salesperson in a shoe store.

She thought long and hard.

"I think New Balance makes something like that," she said.

Interestingly, I ended up getting two pairs of shoes (buy one, get one for half-price, and all that). The weird thing? They’re both size thirteen, instead of the twelves I’ve been wearing for the last almost 20 years.

What the hell is up with that? I feel like Bozo walking down the street now, with my big floppy clown feet.

Yesterday, I suggested to Robyn that we go back to Big Spring to feed the ducks, only this time take the camera so she could get pictures. When we went last week, she opined time and time again about not having the camera, so I assumed she’d wanted it so she could share pictures with her readers.

It wasn’t until we were there already yesterday, feeding and snapping shots, that she told me she’d just wanted the camera to get a picture of baby ducks. She had no intention of making a picture entry at all.

Obviously, I can’t let all those pictures go to waste, so you get to see them. Most pictures were taken by Robyn.

I love to feed ‘em from my hand. Even though sometimes it’s scary.

I really like the white ones. But not in a racist way.

Big Spring.

Anyone know what these are? My vote is for cherries, but I’m not sure.
These trees line the Indian Creek canal. And speaking of the canal…

The canal.
This is, for those of you who pay attention, the same Indian Creek that
comes within a couple of miles of my house, some 10-12 miles yon.
The Indian Creek greenway is where I found my first geocache.

I don’t care if you do think they’re rats with wings, I love me some pigeons.

Such a tranquil place, when screaming teens aren’t turning tables over.

Babies!

Some of the massive carps at Big Spring.
Just how big are these things?

There’s a duck among them, for reference. That’s a full grown duck, too.

More babies.

After Big Spring, we stopped for Subway and ate it by the lake at the local college, where we fed more critters.

More babies, and my shockingly toothpick-like legs.

Fishermen: those are bream. Big ones. And there are loads of
bass to be seen throughout this lake — 16-20 inches long.
And no fishing, damn them.

If I can get close to it, by God I’ll try to pet it. I’m like that.

Like I said, love to feed ‘em from my hand.

Turtles everywhere in this lake, too. And some BIG ones. We saw
one massive snapper easily three feet long from tip of the head to tip of the tail,
but didn’t get any good pictures of it.
He reminded us of Tubby, the way he took cracker pieces.