The One Where I Lost My Shoes

Currently I am taking courses at a local college.  One of my favorite courses is my Environmental Science class.  We have had to do a inventory of the region we live in and it has sparked my curiosity about the world around me and I really get excited to investigate.

This week our lab is about phosphates in water and my professor told us we could bring in a sample to test.  I was pretty excited about that and decided I want to grab one from the mill pond.

Driving to church this morning, I discovered they had drained the pond down significantly again.  However, water was still there and I would not be deterred.  I sent the kids into church and planned on running across the road and grabbing a sample.  No problem.

On a side note, I am in dress pants, my favorite red flats, cardigan, dress shirt and have my purse over  my shoulder.  My bottle was ready and I started toward the water.

I noticed my feet were sinking in a little so I made my way toward a spot that seemed to have more rocks.  Unfortunately, before I could make it, my feet began to sink...a lot.  I am now standing mid-stride ankle deep in mud and any effort I make to lift my foot results in my shoe starting to slip off my foot.

At this point I only had one option.  I stepped out of my shoe, balanced on one foot while trying to keep my purse on my other shoulder and my collection bottle in my hand.  I then reached down and painstakingly fought to get my shoe out of the mud.

If one foot is in the cold wet mud, I might as well get both in.  So, I stepped again, and retrieved my other shoe.  It is fall, in the Adirondacks.  The temperature has dropped.  Yep, the mud is cold.  But, If I have gotten this far, I am not giving up now!  Two more steps and I am on more stable ground.

I obtain the water sample and pick my way back up to shore desperately clutching my mud covered shoes in one hand and the bottle in the other.  I frantically wipe my feet off and sprint back across the road barefoot.

As I walk up the ramp and deposit my shoes outside the door, I get ready to walk into church as the pastor's wife with mud covered bare feet.  My husbands reaction was simply, "Your tracking in mud."  Everyone who came in after me asked, "Whose shoes are they?"  I headed to the kitchen and desperately tried to clean my feet only to be captured on camera.

So, I sat in church, smelling slightly of pond, in bare feet.  Too bad we weren't the foot washing type.  That would have been the icing on the cake.