Jingles

I have these boots...they are so darn cute. Chocolate brown (fake) suede; high, spiky heels; kind of bunched and gathered at the ankles. They're great, but they are decorated with metal rings at about ankle-level, and they jingle when I walk.

This is an annoyance that I try to overcome with my imagination. I pretend that they are...spurs. [low, sotto voce] I walk into the saloon, and the place goes quiet. You can hear a pin drop as I walk deliberately up to the bar: chink, chink, chink. I say, "Jack. On the rocks." I'm so f***ing cool.

Then, there's reality.

"What's that jingling noise?"
"Oh. My boots. There's these two rings, see, and they-"
"That is so cute, what with Christmas coming and all. You're like a little elf!"

Shiiiit.

And of course, everyone knows I'm coming. It makes me think of my mom. I used to be a nursing assistant at a long-term care facility, and my mom was Director of Nursing there. We were often on night shift together, and in the wee hours you could hear her walking the dim hallways, 'cause she had this soft, breathy whistle thing that she did. Always "What A Friend We Have In Jesus". We'd hear her coming and snap to it. Not that my boots necessarily have that effect.