A shoe holds more ounces than a jigger.

The Nordstrom shoe salesman betrayed the usual amount of quizzical uncertainty as Jeff and I approached to look over the deck shoes in the men’s section. I may not be the most socially adept human east of the Mississippi, but I can read body language. Hmmm...why is this woman taking charge? If the shoes are for the dude, what’s with this dynamic?

But he too, evidently, had the capacity to catch on, and as I briefly explained that we were leaning toward laceless models, and he attempted a couple different prompts before Jeff put the proper foot on the size gauge, he understood.

Jeff’s Clark’s “UnStructureds” is a fine pair of shoes, and they served us well on our southwest sojourn, for train-riding and light hiking. But that’s why I brought that pair...for their sturdiness. Once home, he’s reverted to wearing the world’s oldest Sebago docksiders, with layers of leather peeling off, and laces that look like sun-dried and run-over jerky. The laces don’t much matter, is the thing. The shoes are old, relaxed, and go on and off without any need to tie or untie.

We ended up with a pair of pricey Sperrys. They’re somewhere between a classic deck shoe and a loafer, are soft of leather, and stout of sole, and should work for everything once I stash the diversionary beat-up or laces-required pairs in the closet, under Jeff’s lower rack of shirts.

For now I will help with the belt. For now I will help get the shirt buttons on even kilter. And occasionally run the razor over his neck, which is a hair-sprouting zone he usually seems to forget about.

It was not a bad day to be at the mall. Christmas shopping is, of course, in full spate, and the California Pizza Kitchen filled up with lunchtime diners, shortly after we started on salad and pasta. Still, it was Monday, early, and not bad...especially when you are free to look around and think Ah...Christmassy-ness, without having any pressing agenda of your own. At such a pace, I could happily snag a couple of stocking stuffers at Crate & Barrel, in addition to a jigger--something which I have heretofore lacked. A jigger is the amount of rum you add to a hot buttered one (rum, that is.) Though I had ascertained that a jigger is approximately 3 tablespoons, depending on the relative generosity of your bartender, it will enhance the experience to make it using the proper measuring vessel. As it will enhance our shoe-wearing experience to not have to re-tie laces every 15 minutes.