You know the Paul Simon song, “Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes?” I hate to ruin the allusion, but those aren’t diamonds. That’s road salt.
I know, because my shoes are the same way, the tread is dotted with bits and shards and slivers of common, everyday road salt. And I don’t need a jeweler’s loupe to tell the difference. I’m an expert; all I need is the naked eye. I must’ve pulled billions of sharp, pointy nuggets out of my shoes in the past couple of months. Heck, it’s my new hobby.
No longer slick or smooth-soled, my loafers have turned into golf spikes. Seriously. After a short walk from the car, they’re studded with salt and have the grip of Velcro with the traction of snow tires. Heck, I could navigate icy, mountainous terrain with sure-footed ease. While that’s nice outside, it’s treacherous indoors. My feet snag on carpets and rugs and I stumble over nothing. People think I’m drunk, which is better than stoopid, I suppose.
My entire world is bespangled; it sparkles like a diamond mine. Sidewalks and roadways glitter, parking lots are starry firmaments, winking and glinting like nobody’s business. It’s unsettling; all those glowing, blinking pinpoints make me feel I’m being watched. Look away, I mutter, scram, shoo. But they don’t.
Folks have gone crazy with the salt this year, using no restraint whatsoever. If it’s on the ground, we pelt it with salt. Bombard it. As a result, everything is stained with those awful white rings until it’s as desiccated and pale as sun-bleached bones. Life here resembles a colorless, joyless Georgia O’Keeffe painting, the one with the cow skull.
This is what happens when otherwise reasonable people are assaulted (no pun intended) day after miserable day with a harsh and unsparing winter. We throw things at it, to make it go away. But our strategy isn’t working. Nothing’s working in these sub-zero temperatures. The ice doesn’t thaw, the snow doesn’t melt, the temperature doesn’t rise. Still, we don’t stop. No, sir. We just throw more and throw it harder. Road salt is hope, it’s our only weapon.
Unless, wait, how about Tabasco? Or, ooh, wasabi. Hey, duh, why not try pepper? No, I’ve got it … jalapeños … !? And an antacid in the spring.
Copyright © 2014 Publikworks
the whirly girl 
12 responses to “: pass the salt :”
Reblogged this on leperv's Demeure.
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Kitty litter is supposed to be a good alternative to salt. And imagine the fun come spring when people start letting Whiskers, Mittens and Tigger, et al. outside again! It might be enough to remember fondly the days when salt was the only thing you had to scrape off your shoes.
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Hey, Jo. I always heard you should carry a couple bags of litter in your trunk because it added weight to the car. I didn’t know you could use it like road salt. Thanks for the tip, you delicate flower.
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When it’s this cold, the salt just sits on top of the ice! It doesn’t stand a chance.
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Neither do I.How do you survive up in Vermont? It has to be colder there than in Illinois. A lot prettier, too.
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You are so totally right – my nice pair of boots are absolutely killed from the salt ;(
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Oh, I know, tbree. It’s busy corroding my car as I type this. But remember, only 51 days until spring :0)
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The light at the end of the cold, gloomy tunnel :)
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Woohoo!
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You probably already know this, but try a little white vinegar and water dabbed on to take the salt off your leather boots. Let dry, brush clean, and then use a good leather waterproofer like Nikwax to keep them salt free.
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Good idea – I will certainly try! Thanks!
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I might try that my own self. Thanks, Margaret, I’d like to have you for a neighbor.
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