Posted tagged ‘cobbler’

“You need to let the little things that would ordinarily bore you suddenly thrill you.”

April 23, 2015

Lately I have been a bit bored with the outside world. Nothing much is going on. I stayed around the house yesterday, chased the spawn a few times and watered my plants, the highlights of my day. I also read a while and took a nap. The weather has settled into the 50’s every day, some days cloudy, some days sunny and some days both. Today so far is a both day. I woke up to sun and now it’s cloudy.

When I was a kid, I’d go for a bike ride to while away some time. I’d ride up town and check out the lobsters swimming in the tank in the window of the fish market. I’d watch the cobbler tapping the soles of shoes with his little hammer. He always wore an apron. I’d look through the window of the bakery and wish I had some money. They made the best lemon cupcakes. I’d stop at the pet store and check out what was for sale. They never sold cats or dogs but mostly lizards, chameleons and fish. Next store was the sub shop, and I could smell the stuff of subs like the meat and condiments. Mr. Santoro, the owner, spoke English with a heavy accent, and if he made my sub, I didn’t always understand what he was saying. Sometimes I pointed.

I always rode in the same direction on my bike, toward the zoo. I don’t know why I seldom headed the other way, toward Reading. I just never did though once I did ride to Reading with some friends to my seventh grade teacher’s house. She wasn’t happy to see us but pretended she was. We all agreed on that. She was a bit of a cold fish, a description my mother would use. Her name was Mrs. Cochran, and even before the ride wasn’t a favorite of mine. She was the one who told me girls shouldn’t play basketball.

I guess I should take the hint from my younger self and go for a ride, a car ride this time as I suspect Gracie would love to join me. I’ll do back roads, and they’ll be a bit like my store windows with stuff to see. I’ll go slowly so I don’t miss anything.

“Strangely enough, I really think that shoes are a communication tool between people.”

October 25, 2013

My Red Sox lost last night done in by their own errors just as St. Louis had been in the first game. The next game isn’t until tomorrow, in St. Louis. Peavy is pitching for the Sox which makes me a bit nervous. His last outing was horrific.

The house was cold when I woke up this morning so I turned on the heat. Now it is nice and cozy. Last night must have been chilly as Fern and Gracie were huddled beside me on the down comforter. Maddie was asleep in the guest room, her favorite spot. Now all three animals are having their morning naps. Such a life each of them lives!

When I was young, all my every day shoes had laces while my dress-up shoes had buckles. In high school, the school uniform included black loafers, no dimes. I liked loafers, and when I was much older, I had a couple of pairs. One was black and the other cordovan. They were always stiff at first then they’d get really loose the more they were worn. By the time they had fulfilled their usefulness, they were as loose as slippers. My school loafers  periodically needed new heels and soles so my dad would bring them to the cobbler in the square. In the meantime, I’d wear old loafers saved for such shoe repair emergencies. My dad would polish them for me. He used Kiwi polish, and the first thing he did was spit in the can to moisten the hard, dry polish. He always used the same rag to polish the shoes, and it was covered in brown and black stains. After the shoes were polished, they were left to dry, in pairs, then my dad would brush them so much they shined almost like new. His shoe polishing supplies were in the drawer to the left of the sink. Sometimes when I’d go to visit, he’d have me get his supplies so he could polish my shoes. I always loved that. It was a wonderful Dad thing. After he was finished, there was a little ritual. He’d hold up my shoes and ask me if they didn’t look like new. I always said they did, and I didn’t lie.