Goody Two Shoes

I could tell my mother was getting tired of shopping. She hadn't been doing too well since a minor stroke, and we had been at it for some time. I had all of my Easter outfit except for the shoes, and there were still a couple of weeks until Easter, so we quit then. It is usually a busy time, and for one reason or another, we never did get back to shopping for those shoes...and before we knew it Easter was the next day!
I was getting worried by late Saturday morning and then mom said that I would have to go to the shoe store alone. I had mixed feelings: I was proud that mom would trust me to shop alone, and yet I was apprehensive. It was the first time I was allowed to choose solely on my own. Mom suggested I go to a shoe store near our home. But as I left home with my money safely in my little purse, I thought about the pretty pearl greys we saw at the department store downtown, and how well they would go with the little gray hat we had purchased two weeks before, with the pretty pink rose on it. So I went to the street car stop and boarded it for downtown.
As I sat there on the streetcar, I thought about what mom said about going to the nearby Trybus shoe store. Of course, I didn't really disobey because she didn't really tell me to go there, she just said that it might be a good idea. Well I was on my way: I wouldn't waste time, I would go right to the store and get my shoes, and then be on my way home.
When I got home, I gave mom the change and got one shoe out of the box to show her. I didn’t want to put them on, because I wanted her to see the whole outfit all together. I thought about how well the shoes matched my hat and purse, and how nice I would look in church the next day.

I was awake early on Easter and decided to dress long before it was time to go to church. I put on the new shoes, but something wasn’t right. They just didn’t feel right, and one looked bigger than the other. I took them off and checked the sizes, and sure enough they were two different sizes. I was devastated! What should I do? If I told mom, she would make me return them, and I would have to wear my old black shoes. And if I wore them, someone would ask about the different size and I would be embarrassed.
After a short deliberation, I decided to wear them anyway. If someone looked at my shoes, I could be cute and stand up on my toe with the heel up. I just had to remember never to keep my feet together to show off my new shoes. Somehow I managed to pull it off, and I wore them several times, and no one ever asked why one shoe was bigger than the other. Even my mom didn’t notice until it was too late to exchange them.

And that’s how I got the name “goody two shoes.” It was kind of a joke between mom and me.

I Hate February!

Growing up in Detroit, I hated February! The days are short and cold, and the snow is dirty and slushy.
Snow in December is clean and soft, and it makes the whole world look like a picture postcard, but by February its full of dirt and turning to slush. Sometimes the overnight cold freezes the slush and it is hard to walk on the streets and sidewalks.
Those were my thoughts as I trudged toward home in the dwindling light. The only comforting thoughts were of home, and the warm dinner that awaited me. I could picture it clearly: stopping on the enclosed porch to remove my galoshes and then into mom’s warm, fragrant kitchen.
Mom greeted me when I got home “ Hello dear, how was your day?” and I answered, “Fine, except for the walk and the streetcar . I slipped and nearly fell crossing the street. It’s starting to freeze and making it hard to walk. I hate February!”
“Well, never mind, you’re home now. Wash your hands and set the table.”
I walked past the icebox and stove, all the while inhaling the smells of the food still cooking. I was sure I smelled apple pie, but I didn’t see it anywhere. It was probably in the warming oven.
Dad looked up from his paper and gave me a smile and a nod as I passed his chair on the way to my room to hang up my coat and hat. Mother was very insistent that we hang up our clothes.
My room was off the kitchen, and I had to go between dad’s chair and the stove to get there. The stove was a combination wood burner and gas stove, with a warming oven on top. In the winter, we did most of the cooking on the wood stove for economy as well as heat, but in the summer we used the gas.
Dad liked having one of his two favorite chairs in the kitchen. When he wasn’t reading his paper, he could visit with mother and greet us as we came home.
Going over to the kitchen sink, under which was a washbasin, a dish pan and various cloths and soaps for washing hands and faces a well as dishes. The sink was in a corner, and around two exposed sides was a printed skirt. I washed my hands and set about setting the table. The cupboard took up the whole wall except for the door to the dining room, which we used as a sitting room because we ate in the large kitchen. The cupboard held just about everything used in the kitchen, from the dishes to the breadbox and the flour bin. As I started for the icebox to get the milk and butter, I remembered that in the winter they were kept in the cold box through the window on the porch.
Before I finished setting the table, my brother came home and we were soon enjoying a delicious dinner of roast beef, mashed potatoes, a couple of different vegetables, and my nose was right: apple pie for dessert!
February isn’t so bad in California that I should hate it, but I sometimes miss the family gathered around the table, telling of how their day went and talking about all the things that families do at the dinner table.