So when this happened back in April I was in New York getting my fingerprints taken for a new Green Card because the fingerprint-takers in El Paso hadn't been able to get any (hang on, hang on, there's a point to this).
While I was there I bought myself a wildly extravagant and ridiculously expensive (for me, that is) pair of high-topped leather sneakers, which I brought back to New Mexico and stuck in a closet because it was already too hot to wear them.
Need I go on? As Uranus creeps back towards the Sun (mine, that is), we're into day number three of cloudy overcast weather, cool enough to put on a pair of pants for the first time in months and - yes, you guessed it - today the high-tops come out of the closet and on to my feet.
And on another note, fingerprints reared their head again, so to speak, two weeks ago when I re-entered the U.S. after a trip to Venus (AKA South Caicos, where the real-feel daytime temperature seems to hover around 860) and discovered those quaint old human passport inspectors have been replaced by endless rows of ATM-like do-it-yourself kiosks, which involve - yes - scanning your fingerprints as a means of identity check.
Six attempts and six "We are unable to read your fingerprints. Please try again." messages and thank God when I waved my arm in the air I caught the attention of the real live kiosk attendant (?) - would that be his job description? - who came over, took one look at me, pressed a button and bingo! out came my photo on a printed slip which let me back into the land of opportunity where those with enough of a shoe fetish and enough moolah can buy themselves un-matching but complementary high-top leather sneakers.
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