barefooted's picture

    Wet Shoes

    Hi there, come on in.

    I used to write that alot, but I haven't in a very long time. It was an opening line, a greeting meant to welcome anyone who wandered into my little space for awhile. I tried to create a sort of atmosphere for conversation, something to set the tone for a relaxing evening after a long and busy day. Most of the time, though, I just meandered my way through some arbitrary thoughts until I wound up with a question. What does your avatar mean? What's your favorite recipe? Where were you ... well, you get the drift. I wanted to open my virtual door to people I'd never meet, to offer them a seat on the sofa (I once asked if it was a sofa or a couch, we decided on sofa for the comfort value), or to throw a pillow on the floor and settle in. A snack from the frig with a scary green glow 'cause I rarely cleaned it out. A warning that the snoring dog in the ugly blue chair would take your lap if you took her seat. A few laughs at my expense whenever possible. And for a brief moment, a magical puff of time, it happened.

    There was only one house rule, and it was only stated once. No politics allowed. Did I mention that the place was in TPMCafe town? More of a subdivision, really. Anyway, folks started dropping by with umbrellas on rainy nights, fresh fruit and veggie plates, ideas about all kinds of things, and music to play on the old stereo. All the heated arguments they'd been in around the neighborhood faded, replaced by a piece of pie. Or a needed glass of wine. Sometimes visitors would just hang out and listen, not in the mood to join in the fray. No matter, everyone was welcome. And I really, really hope there was never a doubt about that.

    As I sit here now, I'm reminded of how much those days meant to me. I was in the midst of some pretty big upheavals, and I suppose I needed a bubble. It was my first foray into the blogging world ... so as soft spots go it was good and squishy. We were all told to save our posts before Cafe town faded to black, but I chose not to. I was always clear that I didn't want "rec's", because they would cause the conversation that had organically ended to artificially remain. That's the same reason I let them all go. They were what they were, and that was more than enough.

    It's raining today. My sneakers are wet from this stroll down memory lane, so it's time to let them dry by the door. Thanks for listening.

    Comments

    I remember this.

    Yeah.

    I have been walking away from politics. It takes me to nowhere and you began these thoughts.

    I just viewed this wonderful video from Stephen Colbert and I had no place to put it except on the NEWS blog recited on the right hand position provided by the authors of this blog.

    There are wondrous things coming over this really democratic internet.

    Anybody, and I mean anybody, can add their thoughts and fears and loves onto this new tech machine.

    ha

    You remind me of what can be.

    And that is what I always  loved about you!

    No kidding!. 


    You know what, Dick? There's nobody in this great big, wonderful world of ours quite like you. Everything you do, every word you write, every laugh you share, every life you touch ... nothing is ever quite the same after you. You're an awesome lunatic.

    And that's why I love you. No kidding.


    So nice, Barefooted.  Getting ready for bed and this was like a nice warm glass of milk.

    Couch, sofa. . .here we call it a couch, but if I were to go out and buy one I would call it a sofa.  Years ago some in my American family called it a davenport and most in my Canadian family called it a Chesterfield. 

    I'm sorry you didn't keep your early pieces.  They might have been fun to read again.,  But if you're okay with it, so am I.  Glad to see you're writing again and sharing it here with us.

     


    Trust me, it had to be a sofa. But just thinking about telling folks to plop down on the Chesterfield makes me chuckle.

    I kind of think of those times like casual drop-by-if-you-get-a-chance sort of parties, thrown at the old place a while back. They weren't blog posts with comments - not in the regular sense, anyway. I guess you just had to be there. Besides, some things are better stored in memory.

    Darn it all, you got the last of the milk. Did you smell it first?


    I remember your welcoming room, barefooted. I also remember I was always late to the party and would show up after everyone had awakened from their nap and gone back to their walking-around-in-it life. I'd leave a song anyway, because you never know -- someone might be even later to the party than I.

    Let me go look for a song --

    How's this?

     

     

     

     


    Well, there you are! Good to see you, flower ... that's a perfect song. I'm not surprised, you had a way of always picking the good ones. Nice to know you haven't lost your touch!


    Hi Flower!

    Yeah, Missy has me crying late at night here with her reply TO ME, but damn you really hit what her strange blog was all about.

    And the thing about Missy's strange blog was that it should not have been denoted as strange at all.

    THIS IS NICE!


    "Hi there, come on in."

    Probably my second favorite sentence of yours.

    "You're here!" - that became my favorite the moment I heard it, walking out of the arrivals area and into your world.

    For all the memories reading this brought back, and there are many, that instant will live in my memory forever. 

     

     


    Hmmm ... have we met?

    Sometimes, unexpected gifts lie behind even the most virtual door. Mysterious ways, indeed.


    I do believe it was that slow dance in the moonlight.  That was me, wasn't it?


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