Squishy shoes

An open letter to friends, family, co-workers and random strangers:

Let's cut to the chase: Yes, I know my Dansko shoes squished like dead. herring. on. the. floor. of. a. commercial. fishing. boat. ALL. WINTER. LONG.

The cacophonous culprits

I saw your doomed attempts to avert your eyes from said shoes -- AND carry on a normal conversation -- each time I squished toward the microwave in the break room. And, when the relative peace of the cereal aisle was shattered by the rubbery sound of walking in mush on steroids, no Super Saver offer on earth could mask the the horror of the deafening Danskos.

Does it count that they are some of the most comfortable shoes I've ever owned? Or that I've gotten more my share of compliments on how jaunty they look? (Compliments, as you might have already guessed, generally issued while I am seated.) And that they kept my tootsies warm and dry throughout another interminable winter?

I didn't think so.

So all right, already. I apologize for my jaunty, squishy shoes. They are being retired as the days become longer, there's a hint of warmth in the sun and the robins get punch drunk on fermented ash berries.

Ah, April. May it be a quieter month for all of us. And the thought of dead fish become yet a distant, fleeting memory of our collective past.