He's Large

Mr. Moon is getting ready to go hunting in Canada. He leaves on Tuesday. It's cold in Canada. That's what I hear, anyway.

So he's been getting his outfits (costumes? wardrobe?) ready for the trip. This means that I have a clothesline full of camo Polartec. And thermal underwear. And socks. Heavy, woolen socks. And hats and gloves. Camo of course.

Now Mr. Moon is a large man. He's upwards in the six-foot-ten-or-so-inch range and he has long arms and long legs and very, very large feet. One pair of his quilted overall camos and two pairs of his socks is about one load for my very large washing machine. I think I did six loads of laundry so far today, all of it for him to pack and take to Canada. I don't mind because it's a beautiful day and as I noted yesterday, hanging the clothes on the line in beautiful weather is a joy of mine.

Last time he went to Canada Mr. Moon got a pair of boots to wear in the sub-freezing weather while he was hunting. These boots are so fucking big and so fucking heavy that even Mr. Moon has a hard time walking in them. Oh, they fit him but they are HEAVY! So heavy that his original plan was to WEAR the boots on the plane so he wouldn't have to pack them.

Bear with me here.

So last night he tries on the boots. First off, these boots are so huge that every time I see them I fall out of my chair laughing. These boots would be too big for Hagrid. They would dwarf Frankenstein. And Mr. Moon can hardly walk in them. So he puts them on and he gets this look on his face like maybe this is not the best idea in the world, to wear the boots on the plane.

By this point I am about to toss a lung because I'm laughing so hard.

"Honey! You can NOT wear those boots on the plane! For one thing, everyone will hate you for holding up the security line while you try to take them off and get them back on. For another thing," (and here I'm laughing again while I write this), "Those boots just SCREAM 'I have a bomb in my shoe!'"

They do. Because why in the God's name would an almost seven-foot tall man wear a boot that adds four inches to his height? Really. They would strip search his ass so thoroughly if he wore those boots that he wouldn't get to Canada until hunting season was well over.

So anyway, HoneyLuna is here today, studying, and we've been having fun just making silly jokes about things and practicing our cursing and also, we took a walk and a few minutes ago I was finally ready to sit down and write out a post for this blog of mine because GOD KNOWS I can't go a whole day without posting at least once (you'd think I was getting paid for this font of fun and wisdom here at blessourhearts) and I said, "Jessie, I need to take your picture with those boots."

All day I've known it would be wrong to do a blog post about those boots. Mr. Moon can't help it that he has very, very large feet (and there will be no joking here about large feet and their meanings- I'm serious- this is the man I am married to in holy matrimony, or at least legally and have been for 25 years so NO JOKES!!) and he'd look ridiculous if he didn't. And he'd fall over a lot, too. So all day, through yoga and through my walk and through mucking out the chicken shit and hanging camo on the line I've been fighting with my better judgment and finally I just gave in because if these boots were in your house, you'd blog about them too. I swear.

So here's Jessie demonstrating the largeness of the boots:

And Jessie's feet are not tiny. She's almost six feet tall.

And here she is trying with all her might to kick her foot up into the air like a kung-fu master with the enormous weight of the boot on her foot.

She begs of you not to click on the picture to enlarge it.
Don't listen to her.
(Please note that Jessie is not only wearing her father's boot, she is also wearing her mother's clothes.)

I told her that she should wear those boots on campus with entire sheepskins tucked down in the tops to make a point about all those girls who walk around wearing Uggs in 70 degree weather. We agreed it's just too damn bad that Halloween is over.

And to finish the story, let me say that Mr. Moon realized the folly of his plan and has ordered some different, lighter boots to take to Canada to prevent frostbite and which will allow him to walk normally and which will not get him kicked off a plane.

And because I'm having a relaxing day and still haven't washed the breakfast dishes I will end this with no philosophical discussions, no metaphorical meanings and no ranting, raving or pontificating although there is much in the news which could bring on any of those reactions from me.

No. It's Friday. Let's all just laugh. Not AT Mr. Moon's boots. Please no. But WITH his boots.

Have a good one.

Love....Ms. Moon