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The Old Gimmick Meets The New

It’s Friday, so I decided to wear new socks. Hello waffles!

It’s January, so I decided to update my social media profiles and themes.

It’s 2019, so I’ve decided to do something little every week to improve myself.

You know, starting Monday.

Have a great weekend, kids. Oh, and, uh, try not to set the place on fire.

There is too much; I will sum up

This is our 2018, in one image.

Click to enlarge (and then zoom to see the coolness)

These are the “Happy New Year” socks I wore yesterday. After taking the picture below, I used the 365 images of the socks from the past year and some nifty software to make the mosaic above.

I won’t lie; I’m pretty darned happy with how it turned out.


And Then There Were None

We fraking did it. In 365 days, I wore 365 different pairs of socks. 2018 truly has been the Year Of My Socks.

At midnight, as the ball in New York hits, well, whatever the ball hits after it falls at midnight, I’m taking off these socks. I’m taking them off and I might even go sockless tomorrow.

Ok, I’m not going sockless tomorrow. But at 12:01 AM tonight, I am going to take a few moments to ponder the wonder and, um, questionable sense involved with wearing 365 pairs of socks in as many days.

I’ll have a lot more to say about the future tomorrow, but for now, I want to thank you guys from the bottom of my heart and the patches on my heels for bothering to check out my socks every day. If not for you all, and of course the Puddinette’s incalculable dedication in helping me get enough socks to make all this craziness possible, I wouldn’t have made it 30 days.

Happy New Year, kids. You all rock. Now get out there and start getting after it, because 2019 ain’t waiting for no one. Have a great time tonight, hit the ground running tomorrow, and, uh, as always, try not to set the place on fire.

Salt, Lime, And Savoring Success

Of all the pictures, all the poses and places from this past year that I sat down with locked heels, crossed ankles, or Smoky-preseting-a-toy, I think this particular arrangement is my favorite. Even though it’s late December and too cold to be hanging out for very long on my back patio (despite how strangely warm it’s been so far this year), I decided to chill — literally — outside for a few minutes tonight for today’s picture.

Smoky sniffed at the ground a few yards away, trying to figure out where his friends, the squirrels, ran off to, while I settled in for a few minutes. I admired seeing my breath briefly before grabbing this snap of today’s celebratory cocktail. Which, admittedly, isn’t so much a cocktail as a (frequently regret-inducing) shot, but today is Day 364, so I’m perfectly happy to claim that today absolutely warrants a line of Patron across the bar.

Limes and salt optional, of course.

Christmas Spirits

As promised, the one last pair of holiday socks as was foretold in prophecy. My family got together for Christmas today, and as it starts with bloody Mary’s and mimosas, and includes at least one beer and wine exchange, socks sporting the phrase “Christmas Spirits” just seemed right.

Two days left. How did we get this far?

Three Hundred And Sixty Two Bottles Of Socks On The Wall

Three. Days. Remain.

Today marks 362 days of socks.

Indeed, I do believe I’ll have myself a beer and contemplate that for a few moments.

In the meantime, you guys should hit up a happy hour and maybe have a few pints of your own. Just remember to celebrate responsibly, and take an Uber or Lyft if that one pint becomes, well, a whiskey drink, and then a vodka drink, a lager drink, and then a cider drink. And especially if you end up singing songs that remind you of the good times, or singing songs remind you of the better times.

What I’m saying here is have a good time, but mind your P’s and Q’s. And while you’re at it, try not to set the place on fire.

A Dog, His Guy, And Some Socks

Earlier today I was going back through the many, many (many) sock pictures from this past year — for a surprise project! — and I realized that over the course of the first three months of 2018, two things became very clear.

The first is that my skill with taking and presenting pictures of the socks on my feet grew significantly between January first and March 30. Honestly, in the first few weeks of the year, the images were rough. Not great angles, not great lighting, and trying to show the socks while still wearing shoes, of all things. I’m just thankful I steadily progressed so that by Spring I wasn’t embarrassing myself quite so badly.

I mean, at least not with the amateur photography. I’m still quite embarrassing…just ask my kids.

Secondly, and more importantly, I realized just how many of my early posts included Smoky in the picture. My puppy always wants to play, and is rarely without some withered piece of cloth that was formerly a stuffed animal but has been completely liberated of both squeaker and all stuffing. As a result of his enthusiasm, there are a lot of pictures throughout this year that include both socks and Smoky. And I couldn’t be happier that he joined me so many times for the evening sock picture.

It seemed pretty fitting, then, that I was able to get this shot of today’s beer-centric beverage socks with Smoky in repose in the background. This image is pretty emblematic of many a Friday night, when I’m wont to have a beer or two (always in the appropriate glasswear, as suggested-ish by the socks) and he relaxes nearby with the well-loved-yet-empty shell of a friend.

No matter what happens after the first of January next week, no matter what kind of posts I choose to write next year, I promise to keep you up-to-date with Smoky pictures.

I mean, let’s be honest, he’s the star around here anyways.

Libations In Celebration

We certainly aren’t ready to declare a wrap on the holidays around here, especially since I’m technically on vacation until after the first of the year. That said, though, yesterday’s Santas do, sadly, represent the end of the 2018 Puddintopia Holiday Sock Collection.

There is one exception to that statement, of course, as there is with every decent rule, and that one will become evident later in the week.

For today, though, it’s time to say goodbye to the greens and the reds, the hollys and the “hos”. The calendar has gotten very short, and the number of unique socks I have left to wear in 2018 now numbers in the single digits. The number is down to five as of today, and if I’m being honest, I’m wholly unprepared for what happens six days from now.

Before we get all maudlin, though, it’s important to remember I do still have those precious 5 days left. As far as I’m concerned, this last sequence of days definitely calls for a few potent potables to mark the occasion. So pull up a stool and hand over your keys; for the next few days we’re going to be sharing a figurative cocktail or five.

And don’t worry, the tab’s on me.

Santa Socks Are Coming To Town

I’d like to take minute with today’s post to wish everyone out there a very Merry Christmas from me, the Puddinette, the kids, Smoky, and these outstanding Santa socks. I hope you found your stocking, socks, and hearts all full today, and that they stay that way throughout the holidays and the rest of the year.

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A Focus On What’s Important

Twas the night before Christmas
and earlier, before Mass,
I took a shot of the altar
with my socks, like an…jerk

When I showed the Puddinette today’s picture, she immediately cocked an eyebrow at me and suggested my afterlife was likely destined for a, um, warmer climate. Ok, yeah, so maybe I did take off my shoe to get a shot of the altar, but, hey, at least I did it before Mass started.

I’m sure the Pastor will approve. He knows about the whole sock thing. And how can he not be pleased, I did after all, put the focus on the altar. See, I know what’s important still.

Now, if only I could have gotten a picture of the socks in front of the Nativity. Oh well, maybe next year.

At any rate, happy holidays to everyone reading this. A very Merry Christmas to all, and to all some cool socks!