Confessions of a Sock Whore

Confessions of a Sock Whore

I am a self-proclaimed sock whore.  I come by the title honestly.  Some of us like shoes, jewelry, collecting dishes, spoons, glasses, paintings, you name it and I bet someone collects it.  My older sister Cindy once asked me what I collected.  I really could not come up with anything I collected. In desperation, I said embroidered pillowcases. I have a few so therefore I have a collection.  I don’t think of socks as a collection.  They are a necessity. My feet need them.  In all my years of living, I have come to respect the opinions of my feet when it comes to both socks and shoes.  Life is way too short to not have comfortable feet.  Just ask mine.

You can imagine my delight when a friend said she had slightly worn loved socks for me.  Would I like to have them, I restrained myself, and did a little happy dance in my mind. It was easy to reply on Facebook and I said yes without capital letters. No reason to scream with unbridled exuberance at the thought of new socks.  I have been thinking that I needed to buy some more socks as a few of my faithful playmates had given up and left for a rubbish bin without toes mended.  I have mended quite of few of my favorite socks back when I was a college student and thread for mending was cheaper than buying socks.  I would put the worn out soul upon my foot, bend over and mend the toes of my socks.  I must admit that I am not quite as limber as I use to be but I will still make the effort of fixing some of my socks while they are on my feet.  My mom-in-law says that life is too short to mend socks.  As always the universe supplies.

I have toyed with the idea of making gloves with some of my socks.  It seems a shame to toss them away after years of devoted services.  This idea has come and gone in my mind every year. I let the thought pass.  I go and buy gloves.  One year I might clear off the sewing machine, bring out my scissors and then call a friend to see if she can do it for me.  I will provide the socks, the ideas and lots of hugs, go my merry way while she works away on my project because she loves me.  I hope.

I have been on a blog hiatus.  I started this one in October 2018.  It is now January 20, 2019. Where did I go? Or rather, where was the inspiration for writing.  My man has been faithfully writing a blog each week. I think I got into the mind set of why? Do I really have anything to say? I still have thoughts about the purpose of my writing.  I really do write about mundane things.  Like what happened to me during the week or on a Saturday/Sunday’s afternoon.  I am not sure I have a life during the week.  I work, I eat, I sleep and if I am lucky I read.

I like my husband’s blog.  He writes about changes in the world, he thinks about what he grew up with, books he has read, television shows he watched or movies he has seen.  The God and Goddess knows I really don’t remember anything like what he has experienced.  I am writing about the importance of my socks or the slug I found in my salad (last Sunday’s blog). I had a childhood.  A good one filled with wonderful journeys, a great family.

I guess talking about what is going on in the world is too painful. Do I want to be sad all of the time? No, I rather think about happy moments for me, the gift of socks from a friend, a surprise visit from a brother, a beloved cousin who travels hours and hours to see me for a day. I am certain of only one thing.  I like my socks.