Simple Pleasures

“So, Mom, what do you and Dad want for Christmas?”

I didn’t have to think long. We live in an old house with no insulation. The floors are cold in the winter. I want a pair of warm, fuzzy socks. And I didn’t even have to ask my husband what he wanted. Several years ago this daughter gave him what he thought was the perfect gift, and he asks for the same thing from her every year -- a pair of over-the-calf socks.

Some of my best memories revolve around said feet-covers. When we’d only been married a few years, one of my husband’s professors invited us to a Japanese restaurant. We had no idea we’d be asked to kick our shoes off at the door. We’re originally from Texas, and my husband wore cowboy boots during his big-belt-buckle stage. Imagine my chagrin when he kicked off his boots only to reveal he was wearing one yellow sock and one blue one. “Who cares what color socks you wear with boots?” he asked, and besides, he said, he probably had another pair at home just like them.

Only if you’re the creative, never-throw-anything-away type might you know this: the ribbing on a colorful child’s sock without a mate makes a great Barbie dress if the sock is small enough in diameter. The end of a larger single sock makes a great hat for a stuffed animal. Just cut off about 3 inches of sock from the toe and roll the cut edge. My husband saves old socks for rags, but then he saves almost every discarded cloth item for his rag bag. That creative, never-throw-anything-away syndrome may be catching.

Author Leo Buscaglio once told a story about a woman who gave a friend a tour through her new house. The friend was a little embarrassed for the new home owner when she saw a pair of dirty socks on the floor on the husband’s side of the bed. She was surprised by the wife’s reaction.

“Isn’t that cute,” the wife said, “the way he leaves his dirty socks on the floor?” Maybe Buscaglio said it, or maybe it was just the inference I made, but what’s the big deal about dirty socks left on the floor when some day the wearer of those socks might walk out of the house and never come back? Life is fragile and fleeting.

“Mom, when are you coming to visit?” our daughter also asked recently. “Our basket of unmatched socks is overflowing.” She must be remembering our visit a year-and-a-half ago when I tried to find something to do to be useful.

So I’m writing my daughter back. “For Christmas, your dad and I would like socks,” I’ll say. “A pair of warm fuzzy ones for me, a pair of over-the-calf ones for Dad.” We’re depending on her to keep us in socks in our old age. And if we ever move into a nursing home close to her family, maybe she’ll bring along a basket of socks for me to match on one of her visits. Why waste all those years of experience?

I’ve read that old socks make good dust clothes. Just put the sock on your hand and polish away. I hadn’t thought about it till now, but old socks would also make good floor cleaners. I should probably go through my husband’s rag bag now and find some good ones. I’ve noticed how easily the six-year-old’s new white socks pick up dirt on my wood floors when she comes to visit. Can’t you see me, a grandmother, skating across the floor trying to polish it? Or maybe I can offer the grandchildren “skating lessons” for Christmas. Idea. No sense soiling my Christmas present.

(Posted 12-11-11 at http://freehelp.ws/Sense/LetterCb/page1.html)