Flip Flopper

Flip Flopper (n.) 1. Karl Rove's pejorative/un-mispronounceable term for John Kerry. 2. A fish which has recently been caught. Lluvy from ANTM looked like a perfect flip-flopper when she posed for that Pisces picture, the "worst picture in the history of ANTM." [Caught the VH1 ANTM marathon this weekend. Riveting. Simply riveting.] 3. Errant lawyer-girl who so conveniently forgets her "real" shoes and ends up in 'Flops of varying designs as what is likely a subconscious cry for attention. CLC is so obviously a flip-flopper - just look at her, she look like one of those rap guys girl-friends.

No, but seriously, I think I have an unhealthy propensity towards flip-flops. As with all other things in my life, there is no middle ground. Hot or cold. Calm or hysterical. 4 inch designer shoes or $5.99 Walgreens flip-flops.

See, I knew it: Shoes are the analogy for life (followed closely behind by handbags, and baseball movies of every iteration).

My top 3 flip-flop stories (in reverse chronological order):

(1) today, I had my first session with my personal trainer (yes, it has come to this - I have gotten so soft, I must buy motivation). Got all disconcerted by the need to pack work clothes rather than gym clothes in my bag, that I forgot one small thing. 2 actually (and not so small). My daily silent adage of "Don't forget your gym shoes, don't forget your gym shoes" did me little good this morning. They were on my feet, they were not forgotten. And let me tell you, they looked spectacular with my slacks, button down and cardigan this morning. So the debate began: wear gym shoes all day and look like a fool -or- buy new shoes to try to head problem off. Issue here: it was before 9 am (see nothing good comes of getting to work before 9 am) so no stores were open, except, Walgreen's. And that is how I came about my lovely pair of $5.99 bling encrusted black flip-flops. Good thing this is California and people get nervous if their lawyers actually wear white shoes (or suits or ties or anything other than jeans or dockers). But even then, this was pushing it for a M0nday. Kept trying to brain-storm some mysterious foot ailment in case a partner walked into my office and I needed to claim medical necessity. The best I could come up with is "dropsy" - I am not sure that is a foot related problem, nor am I entirely sure it is a health problem (sounds like an unspoken side effect of too much cough medicine), but it did seem like it would be fun to say. (yes, it is my inner-70 year old man trying to get out again. He has been quite cross with me since I gave up the G&T's in favor of rum&diet cokes, though I do indulge him in a snifter of scotch every once in a while).

(2) My 57th Avenue Starbucks Flopper odyssey from last weekend.

(3) Last Memorial Day weekend I was walking home from work (don't ask). It is a beautiful Sunday afternoon. I am in a sun dress. Have just scaled one of San Francisco's large hills, and several slightly less steep grades to get home. Am on flat land, almost there. What a beautiful day... *thud* Face on pavement. Cab going opposite direction stops to ask if I am okay. Hmmm, well. Knee scraped. Blood on hand. Eye swelling a little. Pride hurt a lot. "I am fine. Nothing to see here." Clearly, nothing to see. No one stopped me the entire 4 blocks back to my house. I walk in to my bathroom to clean myself off: Large scrape on cheek. More blood. From where? My hand? No blood on hand washed off. Not even a scrape. Uh oh. Blood from chin. Very deep.

That is when things started to go white, and I passed out. Consciousness regained, my roommate got me to the nearest hospital (holding frozen rasberries to my face, as we obviously had no ice) for the stitches I desperately needed. Met by incredulous looks when informed the ER staff that I had just "fallen" (eye very swollen now, potential shiner) and that I had not in fact been drinking. Matters not helped any when I expressed extremely geeky glee that some of the medical equipment they were using on me was manufactured by a client of mine.

Long story less long. 5 stitches in chin. No permanent scarring on cheek (though did have to wear Nelly-like band-aid through my entire subsequent Maui vacation. Fantastic.) And what was I wearing on my sojourn home/ER odyssey:

Flip Flops.