the boots that won him over

 Soubriquet of Grit in the Gears fame recently celebrated his 1000th post HERE.  It was a nostalgic walk down memory's lane for me because he began blogging, or at least created a blog, so that he could post a comment on my then blog called Red Dirt Girl.  He has been the wise one - to keep at the writing, blogging, scrap booking of images and thoughts and information all there on one blog.  He is able to go back and see the progression, digression, the eddies and tides of his world over the last 5+ years.  I, on the other hand, have birthed and then killed an endless list of blogs.  For the most part I am unrepentant for this odd quirk of mine to take off in one direction in a 'new' world and then, for various reasons, stop and end it.  Only to start again in a different vein, in a new place, new friends.  BUT ...... the blog that Soubry stumbled upon while surfing the innertent one cold December day, THAT blog, yes the original Red Dirt Girl blog, well I miss it terribly.  Why oh why did I have to go and delete those wonderful memories???

Well, actually, I do know why.  It was the divorce.  The horrible raging battle of a broken marriage and a sleazy lawyer who began mining my blog for ammunition to use against me in court.  It was the unrealized fear that somehow I would be found to be lacking the necessary skills to mother my children.  The fear of having them taken away from me.  I look back now, of course, and realize how irrational that fear truly was.  But at the time, I did not 'understand' the legal system nor I was I able to acknowledge my own inner strength and ability to fight back and claim what was mine.  Enough.

Back to the original Red Dirt Girl.  It was my third blog.  I had had two blogs previously that tackled the deep questions I had about my faith at the time; beliefs that I was wrestling with.  With Red Dirt Girl I wanted to do something fun, lighthearted and outrageously silly.  I thought, 'Why not a blog about shoes?'  Not shoes that I normally wear in my everyday life, but FANTASY SHOES ..... those killer stilettos that I lust for knowing that I would break my neck, if not my ankle, attempting to walk in them.  And poetry.  My poetry was exploding in my head, and I was writing a poem every 2 or 3 days during that time.  Red Dirt Girl had fantasy shoesday three times a week and spliced in literary quotes, inspirations and others' poetry on the other two days.  I didn't blog on weekends.  Once the shoe blog was up and running, I created a separate blog for my own personal poetry (similar to what I've done here) and it had its own thriving community of readers and comments.

Then along came  COWBOY!! I called him cowboy, even though he goes by Bulletholes, because my site meter picked him up coming out of Fort Worth, Texas.  Cowboy is a former chef.  And we became fast friends.  I'm not sure how it all started, but Cowboy began using my fantasy shoesdays to inspire him to create menus that went along with the shoe!!  I know it sounds odd or strange explaining it, but REALLY it was FANTASTIC!!  It was so funny and fun and people LOVED reading his menus.  Cowboy would go all out with appetizers, entrees, desserts and drinks, and they were sooo witty.  He'd leave the menus in a comment, and I would copy and post them with the shoe that inspired them.  Then he began to challenge me:  He'd leave me a menu and I would have to find a fantasy shoe that 'fit' it. 

So it was around that time, when the fantasy shoesdays were an established given, along with their fanciful menus and poetry was exploding out of my head, that Soubriquet happened upon my blog.  How he found me here in the backwoods of the innertent, I do not know.  I had more readers, more links to other blogs at the time - but nothing like today's sidebars full of followers that so many blogs boast.  Maybe he was just hitting the random 'Next Blog' button and Red Dirt Girl happened to pop up.  But on that day I had featured these gorgeous Emilio Pucci boots.  In fuchsia with silver and black applique... My mouth still waters !!

And on the sister poetry blog I had posted the following two poems, poems that you have seen here at the gate.  The first is a poem by Polish poet Jerzy Harasymowicz.  It was Jerzy's poem that started my whole love affair with poetry and inspired me to start writing my own.  I wrote about that moment HERE.

The Bicycle

forgotten by tourists
a bicycle joined
a herd
of mountain goats

with its splendidly turned
silver horns
it became
their leader

with its bell
it warned them
of danger

with them
it partook
in romps
on snow covered

the bicycle
gazed from above
on people walking;
with the goats

it fought
over a goat,
with a bearded buck

it reared up at eagles
on its back wheel

it was happy
though it never
nibbled at grass

or drank
from a stream

until once
a poacher
shot it

by the silver trophy
of its horns

and then
above the Tatras was seen
against the sparkling
January sky

the angel of death erect
riding to heaven
holding the bicycle's
dead horns.
~ by Jerzy Harasymowicz
(trans. from Polish by Edmund Ordon)

 The 'sister' poem was one that I had written while posting Jerzy's bicycle poem:

ode to 'The Bicycle'

 Today I was posting
a poem
that wasn't my own.

About a bicycle,
and two silver horns.

I sat at the table
and started to type.
I realized: I'm wrong!
This poem has some bite!

I tasted and chewed.
I digested and fed.
I savoured and swallowed.
The juices ran red.

his words, they are mine.

They float and they slumber.
They run through my veins.
They've invaded my thoughts.
They live in my brain.

The bicycle image,
goats, angel and snow,
I see in my dreams.
Film moving slow.

So this is my poem:
a tribute of sorts,
an ode to a bicycle
and to some odd 
mountain goats.


And yes, though I have erased that blog and its comments so long ago, I STILL remember the gist of Soubrquet's comment.  It was witty and piqued my curiosity about its writer.  He described an image of himself sitting in a cafe under a striped awning, reading poetry and sipping his tea.  As he looked around he noticed ladies shoes, pointy high heeled shoes and boots, displayed in shop windows.  And somehow the menu in his hand was related to those pointy high heels in the windows.  He thanked me for reminding him how much he loved poetry, how it had been too long since he had read any poems.  He enjoyed his idle, the shoes and the funny menus and wanted to leave me something of like kind in return.  He described the 3 clay coins that he left on the table.  How he was once a maker of things of clay,  how he had fashioned these coins just for this purpose: to show how much he appreciated what I had fashioned at Red Dirt Girl

And ...... that was it.  I certainly did not think he would become a regular follower.  I often had random comments.  But the images he evoked made me curious, and his name was a live link.   So I followed ...... and happened upon a new blog with its toddling first post:   An Inconspicuous Beginning.

And this is what I wrote in reply:

Why thank you ersatz.......you had me from the first striped awning.....the coins were more than payment enough.......i've stopped by to return your change. So pleased you partook of a crispy poem or two or three, took time to shoe shop, I'm intrigued.

Please know that you're welcome back anytime on your journey through inner or inter or wherever. I have great expectations from one such as you....I will be sure to link up as soon as all this holiday hoopla is over.....

red dirt girl
Now it could have ended there.  A friendly exchange of mutual admiration.  But Soubriquet went one step further and set a TRAP for me: ......  Eek! The mythical reader! 

And in that post he wrote: 
Oh yes, the cheese had gone. A few pointy heelprints in the carpet gave a clue... Now, where did I recently see.... Oh yes, I think they are the prints of a pair of psychedelic pink Emilio Pucci high-heeled boots. A bit wonderwoman, don't you think, Red Dirt Girl?

Hahahahahahaa!  What a tease that Soubriquet.  He had me hooked and didn't even know it.

So there you have it my friends.  The beginning of our romance.  And no, not even I could have foreseen where the journey would take me, overseas to a beautiful land, and to a man who still has the ability to pique my interest, intrigue me, make me laugh and flirt and feel giddy.  A man who will soon come and stay instead of leaving.  A man whom I will marry.  My only regret?  That I did not save those first tentative steps towards one another.  The record of our history from MY point of view.  The original Red Dirt Girl...

Soubriquet is a much better archivist than I !!



gz said...

Lovely to hear your history together.

Sad to realize that others go through the same to keep their children safe, following the rules so correctly that not a sliver of a wedge could be put between us.

Glad now to see (most of them!) launched out in the world.

Pauline said...

how absolutely cool! and wonderful!

J Cosmo Newbery said...

Swim as we may, we have no control on where the eddies and tides of the world take us. We can clutch bollards for security but our grasp weakens and we are swept away. Not always a bad thing.

bulletholes said...

There were even times when our red Dirt Girl, and all her incarnations didnt have a blog at all. So she would send me stuff to post for her...click here
i remember those boots,and even the menu that went with it, kind of....it all centered around Beef Wellington and a dessert with anisette and candied violets.
Good clean fun....the original is somewhere in drafts (you made me take it down out of fear for the courts) but I reposted at some point, somewhat edited, without as many naughty bits...and here

soubriquet said...

I don't know myself how I stumbled into Red Dirt Girl's blogspace, probably off a link in somebody else's blog, maybe google, maybe the next blog button.
I'm glad I did though.
I think I'd been influenced by someone else pointing out that we humans do so much without hope or expectation of recognition, let alone reward, and I decided that random acts of politeness might be a good thing.
However, I didn't even know how to comment on a blog back then.
Oh yes, I'd been familiar with the internet for years, but blogs, these little self-publishing spaces, were new to me, and the poems fascinated me. As did the shoes and menus. Prior to that, yes, I'd known women wore pointy-heeled shoes, and drooled at shoe emporium windows, but I'd never really thought of the shoe as an artwork, as an expression of design. Until I found Red Dirt Girl's blog.

It was the poetry, though, that caught me. The bicycles. Jerzy H and RDG's reply.

So I left a comment, and look where it led. The last five years have been a journey, not always smooth and calm, often far from it. We're not immune to argument, misinterpretation, sulks, all the stuff that goes with a relationship, but the bigger picture is a world that's far better for having her in it. And this blogging thing? Some pundits say it's over. Ha!

Not yet, I say, not yet.
I must say, the last pair of boots she admired, I wanted to buy for her, but she turned my offer down on the grounds that she'd never wear them. I don't think Imelda Marcos ever said that. Not ever. So. One day I'll buy her a pair of awesome boots that she can just gaze at, and know she owns them, without the toe-trauma and wobbly ankle danger that would come from actually wearing them.


SL said...

Wow, what a great beginning to a great love and life journey together!

red dirt girl said...

Thanks all for the wonderful comments. I've been a bit slack in my 'responding' duties lately! It is a cool, unique, lovely story and, yes, the tide did sweep me away so to speak. I can't thank Bulletholes enough for making the original RDG so successful and fun. We had great fun then. And just to be clear, Soubry is not particularly keen on the pink Pucci boots. It was never about the shoes, but it was about the words and our shared love for them.
So here we are 5+ years and teetering on the brink of new lives for both of us. I will have to keep you posted :)