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Where In The World Are These Socks

I can’t decide what place these faux-city socks remind me of; it’s probably somewhere that isn’t a real place, but more a place I’ve seen in a movie or video game. Like, perhaps, Casablanca maybe, or wherever Bald Bull from Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out originated from?

I don’t know. But having a place to daydream about on your socks comes out as a win always, regardless of if the place is real or not.

And now I kinda want to plan a trip on a 30’s era plane to go find the Ark of the Covenant.

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A Haiku For The School Socks I Wore to Eldest Son’s Regional Soccer Game

Every parent’s life
Leads to booster apparel
Lucky I like socks

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Monday Travel Plans

After a busy weekend, sometimes the idea of hopping into the car or onto a plane on dark, chilly Monday morning in search of parts unknown can be pretty inviting. As it turns out, though, it’s not always realistic to just pick up and head out to see some new part of the world at the drop of a Monday alarm.

Especially not when the kids have school.

Luckily, I’ve got travel socks, like the pair I wore here today. They’ve got passports and tickets and map pointers and, well, just about anything you could hope for to give you happy reminders of when you took that trip that that place and had all the fun.

Keep that feeling in mind this week, kids, and try to make it a great one.

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A Good Day For Gators

We celebrated Youngest Son’s 10th birthday day, even if he won’t technically be 10 years old until Tuesday. In honor of his big party, though, I made sure not to accidentally wear these blue alligator socks a few weeks ago during Animal Week II because while the kid is nuts about animals in general, his favorite, for some reason, is the American Alligator.

Real alligators might not be blue, but he liked them all the same. They probably won’t be the birthday gift he mostly likely remembers years from now, but I’m somehow guessing I won’t soon forget about them.

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Cold Socks, Warm Fire

It was something like 80 degrees here earlier this week. As I’m writing this, it’s now 44 degrees outside. Apparently autumn occurred sometime between the hours of 2 and 5 AM the other day, and now it’s just going to start being winter. Ain’t climate change grand?

I do prefer being cold to hot, though, this this weekend’s turn of climatological events is still in my favor. Case in point, it’s perfectly reasonable to have a fire when it’s below 40, so that’s just what we did. And now I’m roasting today’s drumstick anklets — which, by the way, weren’t quite the best choice for a delightfully cool Saturday afternoon — by the fireplace, enjoying the fact that it’s not 80 degrees outside.

Yeah, I’ll take that without a single complaint, every time.

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The Perfect Amalgam

Yes, that’s right, today’s socks, Friday’s socks, are chicken and waffles, with a resplendent pinkish hue. I am 100% keeping this pair, and if you can’t see the inherent awesomeness of wearing them in a critical work meeting, well, I just don’t think I can help you.

These socks are amazing. The perfect pair pre-weekend. So dig out your own perfect autumnal socks and have the best weekend of the year. We’ll be here when you get back.

Oh, and while you’re at it? Try not to set the place on fire.

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A Bad Limerick For Hot Dogs

There once was a fella with hot dog-ed feet
Whose rep amongst bloggers was not quite “elite”
But who cares what they say
He rocks new socks each day
So at least his uniqueness is on fleek

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Sometimes Things Turn Peachy

When I put these socks on this morning, I didn’t know why. I mean, yeah, it’s mostly foods this week, but why the peaches on Wednesday? It’s not like Wednesday is particularly know for it’s peachy-esqueness. Truth is, I don’t even much like peaches that much.

It probably shouldn’t have surprised me then, that I was in a dark mood when I got home from work today. When you’ve been sporting less-favored fruits on your feet all day and you can’t even tell yourself why, well, odds are good you haven’t been putting the brightest energy out into the universe all day.

That said, I didn’t want to be in a mood. But, yanno, Life is full of disappointment. Here’s what really got me, though: on so many days,  many things have to happen one right after another in well-ordered succession for a busy family of six to successfully conquer the hours from 6 to 10 PM without anyone losing their mind…or worse. First, somebody has to be chauffeured somewhere, and then there’s a parent meeting about something at roughly exactly the same time. Oh hey, it’d be nice to find time to squeeze dinner down the ol’ piehole before cleaning up the kitchen and racing off to The Game Of the Night. After that, when you finally get home (sometime not too late after 10, if you’re lucky) any parent capable of keeping his or her eyes open is in need of a stiff drink and a comfy pair of shorts.

It’s a hectic piece of choreography when everything goes off like a well-oiled machine. When it doesn’t, well…

Enter dark mood.

In the midst of tonight’s mid-evening dance of chaos, I found that one of my darling children — who shall nameless because I’m not a complete monster — neglected the completion of their dishwasher unloading duties prior to departing for parts unknown*. Half a full dishwasher meant I couldn’t clean up dinner before we left for The Game Of The Night (which, in fact, was the Boys’ Varsity Soccer District Championship), thus dooming me to having to address the kitchen as well as dragging the weekly recycling to the curb and a few other nightly duties, after said game.

Long story, well, long, I likely wouldn’t be finding time to sink into My Comfy Chair until sometime after 11. If I wasn’t lucky, close to midnight.

Now, some days that wouldn’t have bothered me. But. Today was not that day.

Swearing that said nameless child would not be leaving the house ever again — or, like, at least for a month — except to go to school and, I don’t know, volunteer for the elderly or something, I did the best I could with the kitchen and then we left for The Game. Meanwhile, the Puddinette gave me a face and told me to quit being grumpy. I mumbled something non-committal, but let’s be honest…who has ever been told to quit being pissy without it accomplishing the complete opposite?

It started to rain before we got to The Game. Because, of course it did. If fact, you can see water on the bleacher next to my feet in the picture above.

Luckily, though, The Game started. Pretty soon I forgot all about the rain and dark mood and even how wet my shorts — and all the parts underneath — had gotten. Because, and I’ve said this before in posts from yesteryear about baseball, or soccer, or something else altogether, there simply is nothing like just getting to watch your kid do something they love unconditionally.

Especially when they’re teens. The band of things a teen will allow to you see them love unconditionally is a narrow space indeed.

And then, well after said dark mood had been burned away by the joy of watching my kid, the universe did us a solid, because sometimes the universe does that.  Said kid’s team scored 3 goals in 16 minutes to turn a 3-1 deficit into a 4-3 lead with 52 seconds left in the game. They won The Game Of The Night, and consequently, the District Championship, whilst I cheered myself nearly hoarse.

Now I know why I put on these peachy socks this morning.

 

*I’m kidding. Said child’s location was well known, and had been prearranged.

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A Haiku For Unlikely Accomplishment

The end draws nearer
Three hundred sixty-five socks!
That shit’s bananas

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Hot Soccer And Spicy Socks

Am I the only one who sees the patterns in these pictures and sometimes can’t figure out what I’m even looking at? I swear that 50% of the time, I’m only sure of what I had on my feet any given day because I put them there in the morning. I feel like it’s almost the sock-picture equivalent of seeing a common word you know we’ll and saying it over and over until it doesn’t seem like a word anymore.

Like, for instance, common

… common …

… common …

… common …

… common …

… common …

… common …

C

O

M

M

O

N

… common!

See? Seriously, it’s like it’s not even a real word now. Or maybe it’s a foreign one? It’s, like, Klingon or something.

Anyway, the pattern in today’s socks is hot sauce bottles, which is fitting because this picture was taken at Oldest Son’s soccer game tonight and it was stupid hot and humid for early October. And, sure, spicy hot sauce heat is not at all the same thing as The New October Annual Global Climate Change heat, but it’s my blog and I’ll make whatever spurious connections I see fit in the name of finding a daily sock theme.

After writing 282 consecutive posts about socks, I’ll take whatever nonsense pops into my head.