I also have one pair of running shoes which, contrary to popular fashion, I only wear while running. They're about a year old, with only a minor bit of heel wear, enough to notice visually but not enough to require a new pair yet. I suspect that says something about the frequency of my running.

The latest addition to my shoe collection is a pair of sandals. I bought them at the Potomac Mills mall in Northern Virginia. My old sandals, purchased in 2004, died a few months ago. I'm a simple man with simple tastes and was looking for a simple, sturdy pair of sandals. Although I usually only use sandals to putter around the house or to slip on for quick errands when I can't be bothered to lace up my boots, I prefer footwear built to last. I had a good deal of trouble finding a suitable pair. Most were velcroized and candyassified to the point that I would never wear them. I finally found an inexpensive pair that I don't think will last all that long but they were exceedingly cheap and they don't scream metrosexual! to passersby.

The shoe I got back yesterday belonged to my pair of dress shoes. They're about seven years old and have served me well. Mostly they get brought out for weddings, funerals and job interviews. I also like to wear them on feast days when attending Church. Lately, I've been wearing them more often.  If I had the money, I'd buy some more suits and nice shirts to go with them.

A while ago, the right hand shoe exploded along a seam. Following a bit of sage advice, I took them to a shoe repair shop about a month and a half or so ago. Yesterday, I got a phone call from a local number that I didn't recognize. The man on the other hand spoke with a very thick, eastern European accent. He was virtually yelling at me.

``IS THIS LEE?''

`Yes, this is Lee''

``WE HAVE YOUR SHOE! WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO PICK IT UP?!''

And now I'm all comfy, wearing my nice dress shoes, slacks and a collared shirt. The only shame being that the slacks and collared shirt are not a nice suit and tie. I could look like such a nice boy. Well, perhaps I would also look more like a nice boy if I didn't have a half week's growth of whiskers and half my face covered with a blotchy rash from poison ivy.

If only I could get my socks to last as long as my shoes! The chief problem with the socks, though, isn't being built well. It's a fourteen year old and eleven year old helping out with the wash. My socks tend to disappear sometime between being cast into the laundry basket full of dirty clothes and when that same laundry basket comes back full of clean clothes. I suspect my daughters are secretly building a large art nouveau sculpture in a hidden passage way next somewhere around the laundry area in the basement.