I have returned from my extended summer sabbatical hoping to find you all well, safe and as glad as I, that the torturous hot weather seems to be waning!
In honor of the fall season, I pulled out an autumnal looking dress for church Sunday. I completed my ensemble with brown earrings and a lovely thrifted green and gold bracelet. I took a last-minute glance at my bedroom mirror to make the decision on which shoes to wear. That’s when panic set in. I had selected a pair of cream-colored pumps with solid heels, but to my dismay, when I finally wedged my chubby little feet into them, I teeter-tottered much as I imagined Cinderella’s ugly stepsister must have done while attempting to try on the famous glass slipper! Those were definitely out. The orthopedic black flip flops that has specks of white spray paint on them were comfortable and steady but seemed somewhat irreverent! I was quickly running out of options and Rhett was surely on the way to fetch me for church. What to do? What to do?
My white sneakers were not a likely choice and after all it was after Labor Day. All Southern women know those rules. It is my heart-felt belief that one should enter the Lord’s house in clean, modest and appropriately genteel clothing for worship. I know (and observe) that many do not seem to share my views, but that’s how I was raised and I’m too old to change now.
As the oldest of four sisters, I was in charge of making sure the appropriate pairs of little white socks with lace on the tops were clean and ready to wear. Then there were the patent leather shoes that required scuff marks to be wiped away from the Sunday before. Vick’s VapoRub did the trick. If there were any last-minute ironing touch-ups, I got that job too. The worst part of the preparation procedure often was left until Sunday morning….. cleaning out all their little fingernails with those sharp manicure scissors! I had to chase a couple of them down for that one. But I digress with memories from the distant past.
The only shoes I could comfortably wear on Sunday were my black exercise shoes. I was not happy with the choice, but ugly shoes should never keep one from church. I rationalized that the fellow worshipers most likely could not even see my shoes while I was in the choir loft. Anyway, they were probably thinking about their own shoes.
My intent is to go somewhere shoe shopping this week. I did find out that one foot is size eight and the other is size seven and a half. Should be interesting. Sincerely,
Scarlett
Please send your questions to Scarlett at: [email protected] or through postal mail to: Scarlett O’Dara, 902 Elizabeth St., Waycross, GA 31503.
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