Monday Mimisms ~ Thank God I Wore The Ugly Shoes

So there he was. The fisherman.

Not just any fisherman but one who shall always from this day forward be known as THE Fisherman. 

Baby Boy and I had a picnic at the park. It was chilly. I had not changed into more comfortable clothes and I certainly wasn't looking cute Friday afternoon.

Dog tired. Worn out. Needed a break. And I needed a manicure.

So did Baby Boy. Not the manicure, the break. He nearly fell asleep in the backseat on the way to the park. After dinner and ice cream under the shelter we proceeded down the wooden steps toward the river. Men fishing  Handsome but jailbate men fishing. Families congregating. Ducks! And water! Big flocks of birds in trees! And peacefulness.....

Until the child shouted.

Everyone knows you can't shout in the presence of fishermen.  Everyone but Baby Boy.
It falls into the do-not-talk-on-your-cellphone-in-a-public-restaurant category of unspoken manners.
"shhhh! sweetie. People are fishing. We need to be quiet until..until..."

Ummmm

Well

Until I....

 found myself looking straight into the darkest pair of eyes I'd EVER seen in my entire life staring back at me from the root-filled river bank. And they were definitely not jailbait eyes. Now I usually don't fall for fishermen. Live bait is animal torture in my opinion. Just sayin. In fact, the last time I fell in love with a fisherman was way back in the year 130BC or something like that. He fished. I slept on his lap on the riverbank with a book under a blanket until it was over. It was seventies romantic and so Ali McGraw-ish. My luck with the fisherman lasted a quarter of a century.  I still hate to fish.

Did I tell you I was wearing a long flowing skirt? The wrong skirt. Groovy. But wrong.
Just wrong.
a skirt so long and so wrong it could cover up even the dimmest of wardrobe malfunctions
See?

 It picked a fine time to stumble over a root.

Well! I was distracted! The boy was tugging on my arm, the guy was trying to make gorgeous eye contact and I was trying to have a cohesive conversation about a "sport" (ahem) I'd forgotten how to play. So to speak.

"WHY are you whispering?" he asked.

"Because you're FISHING."

He laughed. "You don't have to whisper. They can't hear you."

"MIMI! Come ON! **tug tug** "Let's go exploring!" whispered the impatient child.

Now I'M laughing.  Note to self: We will be spending more time at the park.
And thinking..... if you love me Baby Boy you will stop trying to steal me away from Mr. Dark Eyes  and talk to the ducks for a minute. Jeepers! I'll bet he thinks I'm married. Let's clear that up right now.

"Why is HE whispering?" he asked.

"Because I'M whispering."

(Tell me that made sense to you, Bloggy People)

"And besides,"  I continued,  "my EX-husband used to fish and he didn't like me to talk."

(I'm such an idiot)

But I had one save left. Praying left and right that he would not notice the absence of my matching suede boots substituted by the ugliest pair of walking shoes I owned, I picked the perfect moment to......you guessed it....get tangled up in his fishing line which was by now underneath the flowerchild skirt being tugged on by the confused child who I am swearing under my breath will never see another ice cream cone cause somehow I just know this is his fault.  Of course all attention is riveted straight to the white stringed atrocities on my dainty feet which are looking more like huge duck webs in these shoes.  But thank God for small favors. Had I still been sporting the heels I would have fallen flat on my red-faced face. At least that didn't happen. Did it? Baby Boy, tell me it didn't!!  **Oh. I forget. I am not talking to you.**

With many a whispered apology I finally took my stammering twisted up self awaaaaaaay from THE Fisherman to follow little Prince down the path of ducks and water ONLY to hear Baby Boy exclaim too loudly as he skipped down the rocky path, "You know your shoes don't look right with that skirt. Did you know that, Mimi?!"

I can't take him anywhere.

Photography Mimi Lenox

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