NO SHOES, BETTER SERVICE?

I try to respect my body and let it act the way it wants to. We have a little dialogue going. If it's like, "I have a headache, please don't make me run today," I'll usually be like, "Well, is it just a passing thing, I mean, can you work through it? Or is it really bad, in which case I'll put you down for a nap." It's always a bit of a bartering session. Sometimes my body'll be like, "I want a slice of apple pie." And I'll counter, "How about 2 small cookies instead?" And then it's like "Okay, fine." Or maybe its, "Buzz off. I swam you a mile and a half today, the least you can do is feed me pie."

And even though I tend to be kinda competitive in most respects, when it comes to my body, I usually let it win. I just want what's best for my head, shoulders, knees and toes (knees and toes.) It's the only bod I've got--so far. We'll see where technology takes us in the next few years. But anyway, given my healthy regard for my personage, you can imagine my concern after reading an article last week about how BAD shoes are for you. That's right. And they weren't just talking about high heels. Sneakers are also apparently a deadly sin. Researchers concluded that, prior to the advent of shoes, humans had healthier feet. And now that we are so reliant upon footwear, our natural gait has gone to the dogs. Probably quite literally, because most dogs don't wear shoes...

Wanting to hold my feet in proper esteem, I decided I was going to make an effort to more thoroughly explore the world of bare feet. So yesterday, I ran through Santa Monica barefoot, and I noticed a few things in the process. First of all, I noticed that you have to watch where you're walking when you're trying to pull a Shoeless Joe Jackson. I did make one painful step onto a pebble, and onto the occasional (painless but messy) stray mulberry. But it kept me present. My mind wasn't wandering as much as it usually does.

Another thing I observed was how grounding walking barefoot actually felt, if a bit more effortful. And though it might have been asphalt and concrete rather than terra firma, I just felt there was one less thing coming between me and mother earth, and I dare say, it made me a little less flighty. Oh, and walking on the grass felt fantastic. There was definitely an element of euphoria in the proceedings.

What I also noticed was people looking at me in a different light, either like they thought I was a bad-ass, or, quite possibly, a vagrant. Or maybe both. But I didn't mind. I told myself, "I bet their gate isn't half as awesome as my gait." And, if they felt compelled to donate food or money, so be it.

As it is with most things, the jury still seems to be out on how harmful this shoe-wearing habit of ours really is. I've made a pact with myself (and my body) that I'm going to keep wearing shoes to restaurants and weddings. But I am going to continue to explore the concept of bare feet in public, for a bit of a break from the norm as much as anything. Won't you join me in walking a moon without mocassins?

TWILIGHT (ZONE) OF THE COWBOYS

Lovely Readers,

I have been spending much of my
time weeping for the fact that
you have probably never experienced
anything quite like what I bore witness to last weekend. That's right--I'm still weeping and it's already Thursday.

The main thing is, I'm just sad at the
injustice that has led you to have never visited Pioneertown, CA.

Built in 1947 as a permanent old west movie set, with help from such illustrious
investors as Gene Autrey and Roy Rogers, the place still hops on the weekends, drawing visitors from as close as Yucca Valley and as far as Switzerland, who come, no doubt, for the camp.

On Saturdays and Sundays, the local "actors" put on an old west show that involves The Blackfoot Gang's plan to rob
a bank during a Wells Fargo rep's visit
to town on horseback. It's a highly original plot, and not unlike porn in the simplicity of its execution. My favorite part was, though the actors have been performing this very same show for the last twenty-some-odd-years, there was still no shortage of gaffes. But that, my friends, is the biggest part of Pioneertown's charm. That, and the incredibly potent margaritas and live music at the town's biker bar, Pappy and Harriet's.

Another major highlight was Pioneertown's only bowling alley, Pioneer Bowl, which at one time had old fashioned bowling with pin setters, but now claims to have the oldest "working" automated lanes in existence. I use the term "working" loosely, since only three of the six lanes were functioning, one of which broke down mid game. And word to the wise: Don't bother putting a quarter in the old fashioned pin ball machines, unless you intend to make a donation. But that, my friends, in case you forgot, is all part of the charm of Pioneertown.

It's a post modern time warp where you can get a taste of the idiosyncratic lives of the town's permanent residents--many of whom still dress like it's 1899--while drinking an old fashioned soda and helping the two gay guys next to you from Palm Springs score their bowling game, as the African American family sitting at the soda fountain looks on.

I can't help wondering what Gene Autry and Roy Rogers would have thought of all this. We'll never know for sure, but I'd like to think they wouldn't have had it any other way.

OVERSCHEDULED PETS...

As if it weren't enough to be steering their kids into a jazillion after-school activities...

It seems people are no longer satisfied with simply pushing their children too far -- now, they're doing it to their pets. No longer is chewing on a bone, licking oneself, or pushing one's eggs across an arctic ice sheet enough. No siree. These days, pet owners expect more from their animals, in the form of a dizzying slate of extracurricular activities which include, but are not limited to, surfing, scuba diving, and open water swimming.

Why these cats, dogs, penguins, and other species seem to be pursuing so many water sports is unclear, but one thing is for certain: Animals are under way too much pressure these days, and it's adversely affecting everything else they do, from digging, to shedding, to playing with balls of string.

There was a time when domesticated animals had very little to worry about but mere survival. But now, with the advent of kitty salons, dog bakeries, and the gradual takeover of Hollywood by a small group of stealthy penguins, life has become way more complicated, and pets find themselves having to worry about their coiffure, their weight, and now, sadly, their athletic performance. So the next time you see a horse or an iguana playing raquetball or waterskiing, don't just laugh and take pictures. Have some pity on the poor creature and offer him or her a cold brewski and your copy of the latest John Grisham for Pete's sake... Or for Snowball's.