When the Two Should Not Become One

So those cute little shoes that I was wearing when I ran out of gas? I wore them again today. No, I didn't run out of gas again, but I had them on my feet when I encountered another little problem. My pride is only now a little smaller than the bruise forming on my shin.

Knowing I wouldn't be having a messy art project today, I decided to go a little dressier than usual. I chose to wear a gauzy cobalt blue dress and a little lime half-jacket (whatever you call it) and pearly bling. I also decided those silver slides would do just fine with my girlie ensemble.

All was hunky-dory until 1:03. I was just finishing a review game in the leftover time while I waited for Cheryl, my co-teacher, to return for Bible class.

The scenario: I'm standing at the board, chalk in hand, asking questions.

Me: "Okay, for 200 points, name the artist who is most often associated with pointillism."
Student: Georges Seurat.
Me: Good! For 200 points, which artist lived to be 98 and painted huge flowers that make you feel you can climb into them?
Student: Georgia O'Keeffe.
Me: Right! For 200 points, what is the name of the museum in France...

and while I spoke, I crossed my ankles,
and when I crossed my ankles, I didn't realize
that the buckle on my right shoe
proposed marriage to my left
and they decided on the spot to
exchange vows
and consummate the union.

Their public display of affection being
most inappropriate,
they needed a copulation cop.
I tried to separate them by
pulling my ankles apart
but-- like lovers in covenant--
they would let no one
put asunder
that which was joined.

And thus began a wild dance on my part
to force the divorce,
but they were stronger than a cord of three strands .

And I?
I floundered like a ...well, like a flounder out of water,
waving my fins in the air to keep my balance,

but lost it anyway.

Ka-BOOM!
Down I went,
right on my
dorsal.

I quickly gathered my skirting around me,
but STILL those darn shoes stayed together
at the buckle.
I had to wiggle and jiggle and nearly taze them before
they broke their commitment to each other.

Then the peals of laughter. I don't know whose came first,
mine or my students'
but three of the boys were howling into their hands .


Cheryl had just come in, having seen me fall as she entered,

thought I'd fainted,

and when she saw I was conscious,

asked if I was all right.
"Yes," I said, "just my pride took a beating, but that's okay, it needs it."

I got up much more gracefully than I'd gone down, and decided it's probably
time I trade my silver slides in
for ruby slippers.

Because , at the moment,
I was thinking

I'd rather be home.
There's no place like home.