my socks

When I buy a pair of socks, I mark one left and one right. Either new sock could be a left or a right before I mark them! It’s like they are being born when I open the package and then I tell them which is male and which is female. I always say it out loud while I am marking. Once marked, they are male or female for life unless I decide to change the markings.

I have different feelings about left and right socks. Every so often I will put a left sock on my right foot. Once a year or so I will put a right sock on my left foot. I always mention this at confession but my priest never offers an opinion. I cannot see his socks; his cassock hangs too low.

When I was a teenager and then in my early twenties, I would have trouble finding a matching left and right pair in my sock drawers. If I found two that matched in color, they would both be right or both be left. I missed more trains that way, searching.

After the fire, when I needed all new socks, I bought only one brand (Vulvue), one type (wool, over-the-calf, ribbed), and one color (brown). I keep the lefts in one set of drawers and the rights in another set on the other side of the room. I wash lefts and rights separately. I use fewer drawers for the lefts because I like to squeeze them in together. The rights get more room but sometimes I will ball two of them up, one inside the other. Once I balled up three. I haven’t told my priest about this.

When I was thirty, I hurt my right foot and had to wear a cast. By the time it came off, the left socks were more worn than the rights. I had to get rid of all of them and start over. I packed them in a mini-fridge delivery box and put them down next to a homeless person at the station. I told him that one of the socks had a ten-dollar bill in it, so that he would not throw them all away. It was really only one dollar but I wasn’t sure that would provide sufficient motivation for him.

I have some fuzzy warm cotton socks for cold nights in bed. I keep these on a shelf in my closet, in a box I call “the harem.”

I notice socks on others. Most seem unhappy.



Are clothes frosting?

No. Clothes are clothes and frosting is frosting. If they were the same thing, they would be the same word, but they aren’t. And they aren’t synonyms either.

“Are clothes frostings?” is a different question, but the answer is still no.

Frostings decorate a cake. Clothes may decorate the human body, but they also may not. “Work clothes” do not decorate the human body, except in the case of women who overdo it a little, such as Christina Hendricks. And women “on the job.” And those guys in American Psycho.

In fact, clothes can camouflage. I don’t recall seeing, or eating, a camouflaged cake. But perhaps that’s why I didn’t see it.

The nudist might disparage the decorative effect of clothing. The naked body is beautiful in itself. The nudist demographic has been aging, though, and may as a consequence be, slowly, coming to its senses.

Persuasive argument that frosting is clothing: when a woman jumps out of a frosted cake, she is often nude (subject to the health laws in her state).

Is there another reason for frosting on a cake? It’s sweeter than the cake, and the cake is already sweet. Is that strange? Like putting honey on your sugar cubes? I think that Linus did that, but wise as he was, he was still a little kid.

Cakes without frosting? Fruitcake. The bundt with its drizzle. Some devil’s food. Streusel. Cheese cake. How could clothes be frosting when frosting is no more than an affectation ignored by so many classy cakes? I love a man in uniform.

What of these men who lick the frosting off a cupcake or from the middle of the Oreo cookie? This is comparable to tying knots in the swimmers’ clothes down at the old swimming hole. Is then the theft of a cake, or a cooling pie off the window sill, equivalent to kidnapping? I wouldn’t say so. The ransom for the stolen dessert is collected in its subsequent consumption. We pray that those who hae been kidnapped fare better, as opposed to being better fare, and are returned to their loved ones in the condition in which they left them. I disregard the behavoir of the knave of hearts, because where royalty is concerned, go figure.

Common misconception: clothing was originally invented by humans to keep warm. Wrong. You think that first human in shirt and tie just started wearing clothes to fend off a chill? Lived up in Minnesota in the winter? Invented underwear? No, humans were warm enough without clothes. In fact, when they started fooling around with clothes, the first thing a guy said was, “I’ve got to get home and get out of these clothes. Lie down on the sofa, drink a beer, and watch the game.” That was on a Sunday.

To be clear: frosting can look awful and taste bad. This is similar to looking awful and having bad taste, but it is not identical.

Final points:

– Frosting does not have buttons.

– Clothing won’t melt in the sun.

– When you’re fooling around with your mate and she covers you in jam, that’s not clothes.