March 10, 2012

This is a story about a pair of shoes. Guys, beware.

Believe it or not, I am acutely aware of the fact these shoes are mostly likely to win the “Ugliest Piece of Shit on the Planet” award. But due to a number of factors, these shoes are very important to me and have recently re-entered my life.

How can shoes re-enter someone’s life, you ask?

Let me explain.

I bought these shoes when I was in my second year of a program to become a Personal Fitness Trainer. (See how well that worked out?) Well, I remember buying them right before the semester started, and I remember entering the gym at NAIT, decked out head-to-toe in a bunch of new lululemon swag I snagged at a warehouse sale. With my new shoes, of course.

Believe me, those shoes didn’t look like that in 2005. They were reaaaaal pretty. People were fawning over them left, right and centre.

Anyhoo, for the record, those shoes right there are likely the most comfortable ones on the planet. Although they were likely showing signs of wear after that year (though, really, I often have trouble remembering that far back), I took them with me when I moved to Calgary in May of 2006, and I wore them allthefuckingtime. Like I said, I have a shitty memory, but I’m fairly sure those shoes (among others, namely my Birks) were on the hit-list of a certain ex-boyfriend and his sister for being ugly pieces of shit that I would best be rid of.

But, like I said, maybe it was just those stupid Birkenstocks I wore every day in the summer like they were going out of style. (Completely oblivious to the fact, of course, they were never in style in the first place.)

Anyhoo…

Then came September 2007, the fateful time I moved across the pond… for the first time, anyway. Likely written somewhere defunct in the interwebbies, I had a one-bag maximum for fifty pounds when I moved. Fifty pounds does not satisfy me for an intercontinental vacation, if you must know. The idea of having a cool fifty pounds (of which twenty was suitcase) and moving across the ocean was a nightmare. Needless to say, I left a whole whack of shit behind that I wanted. Including my beloved ugly-shoes.

Now, here’s the part you start thinking I’m a fucking psycho if you didn’t already know that.

I used to have dreams about these shoes. Yeah. Dreams. (Do you think I’m crazy yet?) Dreams where I was happy and wearing my shoes. Stupid as it was, I would wake up and desperately miss having those shoes. Perhaps, in retrospect, it was due to the fact I didn’t own a decent pair of shoes at that point and was longing for a pair of shoes that would allow the blisters that covered the whole of each heel to… heal.

Somehow, though, every time I had the chance to have them either sent to me or bring them back to Krautland after being back in Canada on a trip, there always seemed to be something more important than those shoes. Normally those things were books. Because, as crazy about those shoes as I am, I am more crazy about my books.

Fast forward to 2010, when I moved back to Calgary. I was finally reunited with my shoes!! By this point, though, I realized it would be inappropriate to ever wear them in public. So, I wore them on walks with Maxie. I suppose that’s “public”, but I wouldn’t exactly call Spruce Cliff and Wildwood the hubs of Calgarian fashion. Even if you consider the one family in one of the three gigantic houses in Wildwood whose daughters ran around in a different pair of Uggs every day. Which isn’t even fashion, really.

Anyhoo.

Surprise, surprise, when it came time to move back to Krautland, I had better things to bring with me than those ugly-shoes, namely books. So there they were, forgotten in the closet of my room at my mom’s.

When I first got back to Canadaland in February, I took some time that first week to reorganize all of the things that somehow never made it to Krautland, despite me wanting them there with me. Seeing as I have a good thirty-five pounds of books and paperwork to bring back with me, I knew I wouldn’t be bringing any of that stuff back this time. No worry, though – my mom and her husband are planning to come visit me sometime in the fall. Seeing as they want to do the empty-suitcase-there and full-suitcase-home thing, it made sense that they could just bring me a bunch of my stuff when they come. So, I organized that stuff and put it in a bin in my closet. Can you guess yet that my ugly-shoes didn’t make the cut yet again? Because, even though I told myself that they could bring those shoes to me in the fall, I know I would have chosen something else more practical for them to bring instead. Like I have for the last five years.

Fast forward to the end of my trip, and I’ve inevitably started the whole packing ritual again. Time goes by so quickly. Since I’m a cheap motherfucker who doesn’t understand the concept of having to pay for a second bag when flying intercontinental desperately requires more than thirty pounds of stuff – Remember that twenty pounds is suitcase? I need a new, lighter suitcase. – my original plan was to fill my one bag with clothes, and carry on all thirty-five pounds of books I have to bring back. With my regular purse, etc.

You know, I’ve travelled enough to know I could easily get away with something so ridiculous under normal travelling circumstances. But as my cousin R. reminded me yesterday, I will not be travelling under normal circumstances this time.

Why, you ask?

Well, Air Canada employees just got sent back to work after a strike was called off by the government. The translation for this is that they are going to be nitpicking assholes. He advised me to suck it up and pay the stupid $70 CAD for an extra bag.

Now that I resigned myself to this fact, I feel light-hearted and happy. With half a bag full of books, I am able to bring some of the things from that bin that my mom and her husband now don’t need to bring me. Among those odd-ball things are: a yoga mat, kitchen knives, curtains, winter boots, snowboarding gloves and my ugly-shoes. (I pity whoever scans that bag and wonders what the fuck I have going on there…)

Can you believe it?

My ugly-shoes are finally going to Krautland!

I know I could have packed something more practical (like some of the books I have that are still here), but I decided to take the plunge. I’m normally running around in the fields with Maxie in a pair of rubber boots, but I figure my ugly-shoes will be a welcome addition to my Maxie-walking wardrobe.

Watch out, Deutschland! My ugly-shoes are coming to take over! Because, as sick as those things are (and not in the legit-sick way), I love them to bitty pieces, and even though I don’t dream about them anymore, I doubt I will regret my decision.

(Yes, I realize this post was a complete waste of time. At my mom’s request, I still plan to talk about the recently busted fish-trafficking circle, but not today.)