Comfortable pink flip-flops wanted

I have a little memory test for long-time readers of Unorganized Territory. What happened to my pretty pink flip-flops three years ago, in July 2007?

I’m sure there are a few people who are already jumping up and down, yelling, “I remember! I remember! Wasn’t that weird?”

And I’m just as sure that there are a number of others who are scratching their heads, wondering if I’ve really wandered off into unorganized territory. Why should anyone remember—or care—about what happened to my footwear?

Sorry, those who remember the silly shoe saga will have to wait for the latest installment.

And readers who have forgotten— or who have no clue what I’m talking about—will have to wait until next week to hear an explanation of why I’m bringing up a story about a shoe.

I’m not postponing my pink flip-flopstory to be perverse. The last time I talked about flip-flops (back in 2007), it turned into a three-column series of shoe silliness. I won’t do that again. I promise to finish the pink flipflop tale next week,

But I don’t have space this week. You see, putting a newspaper together to go to print is a bit like a puzzle. Everything has to fit together neatly. Since I’m writing Unorganized Territory on deadline, nearly all the other puzzle pieces are in place. So what I write has to fit snugly into the space on this page below the Carson Gitche Gitche Gumee cartoon and the correction on the last Lutsen town meeting article. I only have a slot for about 500 words. My pink flip-flop followup is 665 words.

Since I don’t want to cut that column by over 100 words, I’m starting over.

But as long as I’m on the topic of flip-flops, I thought I’d explain why I was walking barefoot through Grand Marais last week. I’m sure anyone who saw me walking to Dockside Fish Market last Tuesday thought, “Well, Rhonda has finally lost it.”

They would be partly correct. I don’t know if it’s because I’m getting older or because I had Guillain-Barre Syndrome, but I seem to have lost my ability to walk in certain shoes, including the lovely black sandals I was wearing on Tuesday. The closer I got to Dockside, the more uncomfortable my ankles became and the harder it was to walk. I finally had to take off my shoes. Without them, my ankles felt fine and I strolled on, carrying my shoes. I haven’t gone barefoot for years and it actually felt kind of nice. Although I’m sure it was a strange site to see an adult walking barefoot through town.

As I walked, I wished I had my 2007 pink flip-flops. They were comfortable for walking in. What did happen to them?

Oops, sorry, out of room. I’ll tell you next week!

I get up in the morning with an idea for a three-volume novel and by nightfall it’s a paragraph in my column.

Don Marquis