The thing about us frequent movers, we have a deep supply of fish-out-of-water stories. At times integrating the local customs, others times merely accepting them, but often floundering; it always makes for fun dinner party repartee. But I just can't get my head around the shoes-off thing.

Shoe removal practices seems to be the dividing line for many households, and cultures for that matter. Is it a midwestern thing? I've never experienced it in the south or the UK, and only occasionally in Kansas. But then again, I've never lived in Asia.

It's not that I wasn't "fetched up" right (a midwestern term I've come to love), but I didn't really wear shoes that much growing up. Maybe that's the problem. Flip-flops, the flimsy pink and white ones, were the norm for beach kids like me. Confining canvas Keds were for school. But usually, oblivious to rocks and sand, my calloused soles carried me through the day.

I knew that it was polite to brush the sand off your feet before getting in the car, but otherwise, I can't say there were any rules about shoes in the house. I take that back, there were; my father was constantly telling us to put some on, probably because his feet were cold.

It was not until my husband and I moved to a small town in Illinois that I even encountered this shoe thing. I'll never forget the first day in our new house, when a visitor and her four children came in the door and started to undress, well, that's what it seemed like to me. So much shuffling and huffing and puffing. Only after they had made a tidy pile of boots and sneakers, did they dare to venture in or speak. I found it odd, but kept quiet.

My husband, a good solid-midwesterner, explained that they lived on a farm and that's what you do to keep the mud out. OK, I thought. That makes sense. So I wondered if it was just a rural/town issue.

Then why was I expected to do the same at others homes when I lived with sidewalks and wall-to-wall carpeting? Too make things worse, I never remembered to take mine off until I was leaving and saw the neat little line of shoes at the door. I was always amazed that they didn't even wear their own inside. Did they carry them to the front door each morning and then hop and hobble around putting them on just before leaving? Maybe it was true; I wasn't fetched up right.

But still, I have to invoke a little Carrie Bradshaw. You know, the episode where she doesn't want to take off her designer shoes, because they are part of her "ensemble". You know the rest, she relents and they disappear. It's not that I wear designer shoes, yet I still feel a little like I'm undressing when I have to doff my shoes at someone's door.

When going to parties, I've found I now feel apathetic or ambivalent at best about my appearance from the knees down, what does it matter, I'll just have to go shoeless the moment I arrive, and spend the evening shlushing around with my pant hems polishing the floor.

Doesn't anyone else feel just a little vulnerable padding around another one's house in your stocking feet? And that's the other thing, what if you aren't wearing socks? Is planning for this custom kind of like wearing good underwear in anticipation of an auto accident?

Finding the joys of fur-lined footwear has been a godsend since moving this far north; I wear my Uggs sockless according to Ugg recommendations. Ooohhh so cozy, until you go to a friends and realize you're really going to be barefoot instead, rubbing your frigid feet together for warmth under the table.

Even my dog doesn't understand. He sees shoes at the door, especially sparkly little flats, he thinks "chew-toys". So now I have to train the well-trained kids to toss their footwear in the basket by the door.

I'm not completely clueless, I see the snow, I see the salt, the mud, the slush. I hear the warnings about germs and pesticides hitch-hiking inside. I know no one wants it in their home. But I still wish for a proper season for shoe removal along the lines of a "no white after Labor Day" kind of theme. Then I would be only be improper half the time.

When I tell people they can keep their shoes on, they get nervous, so ingrained is the teaching. So I just let them do what's comfortable for them, and surprisingly to me, most times that's shoes-off.

Thinking back I remember visiting a Hindu family that required we remove our shoes before going upstairs; something about evil spirits. For some reason that felt more critical than a little dirt on the carpet.

Recently after undergoing some remodeling, the city inspectors were coming by to check off the completion of building codes. The wood floors on the way to the bathroom were just finished and the final coat still curing, so I wore socks in that area for the day. All the other workers had quickly taken off their boots each day.

So I didn't think a thing of it when the plumbing inspector showed up. He headed directly for the bathroom, and I asked him timidly if he could take off his shoes. It felt so weird after all my grumbling to be on the other side of the story. "Nails", he said, and flat refused.