You shoes you lose. Also, our daughter is Spock

Our friend Melinda requested that we have a post about shoes. I figure that's as good a starting point as any. First, I'll start with my take on shoes, then I'll give Jessica, who's much more of an expert on the subject, a chance to comment. That may turn into one or several posts, depending on whether we feel like it.

First of all, anyone who's known me for very long knows that one of my favorite things to joke about is the fascination women have with shoes. I suppose it's fitting, therefore, that I married a woman who ranks shoes somewhere between chocolate and oxygen on her list of necessities for life. I should have seen this coming when I was on my mission and I got transferred to the shoe capital of South America: Franca, SP, Brazil. Many of the people we visited and taught worked in the city's many shoe factories so during my time there I accumulated enough shoes to spell out the name of the city:

I was surprised to learn that a pair of dress shoes I'd purchased in the US from an ROTC surplus store (before I ever knew I'd be going to Brazil) had actually had the soles manufactured in Franca. 

It was also in Franca that I had one of my most exciting (read: hot, boring, and tiresome) shoe-related adventures. At the time I was living in a duplex with three other missionaries, and we decided to use one of our days off to visit the downtown shopping area. Our plans were cemented when some locals told us that the largest shoes-only shopping center in Latin America and possibly the world: "O Shopping do Calcado", was a few minutes walk from the downtown bus station. (As an explanation for our readers who don't speak Portuguese: "shopping" is the word Brazilians use to refer to what most gringos would call a mall. From what I could tell they used to call them "shopping centers" because that's probably what most of them found in dictionaries or English textbooks, similar to the way a billboard is called an "outdoor" instead of an "outdoor advertisement", although they pronounce the words "SHOW-ping" and "OUCHY-dor", respectively).

But I'm rambling about etymology when I should be writing about shoes. So there we were, the four of us, headed to the big shoe mall. Unfortunately, when we got off the bus, the mall was nowhere in sight. Rather than give up, we flagged down a few passers-by who informed us that it was just a ways up the street and that we couldn't miss it. So we began walking, and kept walking for about an hour and fifteen minutes, before finally arriving at our long-sought Shoe Shangri-la (or Mocassin Mecca if you prefer). Upon arrival we were greeted with a sight that has graced the eyes of many a shoe-seeking traveler: the four shoes of the apocalypse. Outside the mall, at each of the four corners of the building, stand four big shoe statues, each with a different theme. By now being heavily affected by heat exhaustion, we decided to photograph ourselves capering around the butterfly-themed one. 

I did wind up buying some pretty cool leather tennis shoes there, and I was very sad when, a few months after my return to the states, I noticed them starting to crack at the edges. On nice days I still dig them out and walk around in them, remembering our epic journey. Lesson learned: when someone from Franca tells you that something is "logo ali", don't take them at their word. Apparently that doesn't mean "right there" like it does everywhere else in Brazil.

Having talked a lot about my own shoe experiences I'll return to describing my observations about my wife's outlook on shoes. I figure that when our kids get older it won’t be as hard to tell them “no” when they ask for a toy or video game or treat that they really, really want, since I get to practice that skill whenever Jessica and I walk past a shoe store. I have to be especially delicate about it because my wife has a much greater ability to make me regret it than a small child does. I think part of it is Jessica’s tiny feet. She has a lot of options because her feet are small enough to bridge the gap between large children’s shoes and small adult shoes (the one time I was ready to cave when she wanted new shoes was one time in Wal-Mart when we saw a pair of children’s size Iron Man boots, but unfortunately they were just a little too small for Jess).

That being said, it’s only fair to point out that Jessica does have one pair of shoes that merit immediate respect. I'm referring, of course, to her Batman Converse All-Stars. I don't have much to say about these as they kind of speak for themselves, but I will point out that they're non-symmetric - each shoe shows a different set of scenes. That pair of shoes is awesome enough to keep me from making fun of the size and breadth of Jessica's shoe collection (most of the time anyway - old habits die hard). 

Since I doubt that a few paragraphs will satisfy our readers' burning desire for shoe-related blogging, I'm going to see if I can talk Jessica into doing a more expanded post about shoes. 

I'd like to round out the post with a bit of artwork (it seems like all our posts so far grow in image density towards the end of the post, almost like we're running out of interesting things to say and have to hold your attention with funny pictures). Today's artwork comes courtesy of the Sketchbook Express app for iPad and iPhone, and at the low low price of free it's definitely worth taking a look at. Among other things, you can import images from your device's photo library and start doodling funny stuff on them, such as what would happen if the Galactic Empire invaded Rio de Janeiro:

When Jess was pregnant with Tori and we still didn't know what gender the baby would be we started passing the time on Sunday afternoons and road trips by drawing pictures of the adventures our child would have as an adult (or if you're a fan of YA literature then they would have the adventures as an awkward pre-teen discovering their own identity at the same time they're dealing with the pressures of junior high school, 

acne, and parents who just don't understand). This was all inspired in part by the efforts of our friends to find a suitable name to use when referring to our unborn child. Rejected candidates included "Cletus the Fetus" and "Horseface" (pronounced hor-SEF-uh-see). As you can see from the title of this post, the name that stuck through most of the pregnancy was "Spock", which, despite being the name of a male Vulcan, was clearly the logical choice.

We tried to keep the drawings as ambiguous as possible with reference to age and gender to account for all possibilities, but it's kind of obvious in this image that I was expecting a son:

For the next image I did a better job making it apply if we had either a boy or a girl.

We now have two octopus bath toys for Tori to practice on in case this picture ever comes true. Unfortunately the Green-Goblin glider hasn't yet become commercially available, but I'm assuming that'll come with her ninja-secret-agent-astronaut training.

Once Tori was born we adapted the artwork slightly. While I'm still confident she'll grow up to hunt dinosaurs and fight giant mutant cephalopods, the following image reflects her current personality a little better:

Recognize that unicorn? I was able to recycle the image after using it in my now famous painting "My Little Pony fights a Charizard":

Twilight Sparkle uses the magic of friendship!

..... It's not very effective.