[Took the old girl out for a spin this morning.]
My cousin Spencer (RIP, handsomest one, xo) used to always tell me about Summer Feet. A tanned, stunningly good looking lifeguard, he spent lots of time at the beach and knew much about these things. A trusted source, if you will. I was trailing behind him one day at the beach in the shelly section, gasping with each step—“Gotta get your summer feet!”
[Snuck down to the beach today on my bike while the fam was out to brunch. Couldn’t in good conscience spend my final hours indoors.]
Summer feet take a couple of days to acquire. They make bare feet possible in all necessary Floridian venues: blacktop navigated from parking lot to sand, hot pool decks, shelly beaches, dunes laden with spurs, hot boardwalks, visits inside the smoothie shop, and on the grimy carpets inside Blockbuster video. Best part—no one really notices. It’s the beach, baby.
When I moved up to NY, this was the main thing I took issue with: I had nowhere to go barefoot. At all. It was such an offense against my being, so I made it my official quote on my company profile: “Do I need shoes for that?” Which everyone found very funny and ironic given my penchant for high ones. But I digress.
I think about Spen and his summer feet every time I get a little raw at high tide. I think about him most days, for that matter—especially when I’m home by the beach, or when I think a less than nice thought, and immediately follow it up inside my noggin with, “Yikes, you didn’t hear that one, cuz.” Don’t make fun of me, but after he died far too young, I tried to channel him through imitating the little laugh he used to do. It’s the only thing I’m not ashamed of ripping off from someone, because in my own way, it keeps him here. It is a laugh of the most unadulterated glee.
Sort of like the way I felt sitting alone on this ledge of sand today, listening to the waves, counting down the minutes until it was time to hit the dusty—wheels up—back to NY.
On a lighter note, meet the one-eyed Lab from across the street who I saw walking on the beach this morning:
Quick story: my ex-cat Brady (who lives in FL now) took this poor girl down like a gazelle in her own front yard. Three times. In a row. He just launched onto her hindquarters and brought her to the ground—a scrappy fur ball with a boa tail. Hell hath no fury like a street cat’s scorn!
Hope you all had tremendous weekends, although I wouldn’t trade mine for the world.
-Carey
More excellence in barefootery
[Took this today. 30 seconds of heaven. Can I get this on loop to listen to during the workday?]
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=enkU1xvdbGQ]
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awww carebear
xoxoxoxo
I love this post!
I am missing my Summer Feet too these days.
PS: hilar that B is your ex-cat..hahaaaa
xo
I had nothing close to summer feet, and was in immense amounts of pain–haha! B-man acts like he doesn’t even know who I am. Such a dig. All those in favor of moving back to the beach, say Aye! (Aye!)
I love this post, Carey:) I totally relate all the way around. All of my friends, here and when we lived in VA, always made fun of me for being barefoot constantly and for wearing flip-flops regardless of how cold it was outside. I just refused to conform/admit I wasn’t in warm and sunny FL anymore!
Oh, Spencer:) He was indeed very handsome, very sweet, and so much fun to be around. Just recently I came across some great pictures of Charlie, Kat, Spencer and me (probably circa mid-90’s). They immediately made me smile b/c I remember how much fun we had that particular night, but they also made me so sad that he’s not here with us anymore. Truly a wonderful guy.
XOXO
Def one of my favorite posts… Though it makes me a little depressed looking out my window to a cold, wet & dirty snow covered NJ gloom..
F.
Without actually referring to it as summer feet, your godfather (The Barrel, duh) used to make me walk around Chub barefoot to make my soles strong. It was a requirement that I am proud to have endured.
you badass!
Did you walk across the Mojave, as Trish calls it? haha.
He’s too cool to perpetuate cutesy nicknames, of course. And he don’t even try.
Hahahaha! I love summer feet!! And thanks to Florida– I maintain them year round. My husband finds it horrific– that sporting bare feet are akin to swimming in a dumpster (although he’d be more apt to do the latter ;P) But, I stand by my Florida raising and will go sans shoes anywhere I can. In fact, I don’t think I wore shoes for most of my 9th grade year at Nease (but I’m not sure I would do that again– those dirty highschoolers!)