Word of the Month

I am totally late to the Word of the Year or alternately, Word of the Month game.  Just a few mornings ago, I was reveling in a new item and realized I finally have a theme. A Word of the Month. 

My theme for January? My Word of the Month? 

SOCKS

Now I watch some of you actually knit socks. I am in awe of your talents! My mother was a knitter and tried to teach me to knit for most of my childhood. I understand the idea, but I can only knit so tightly that, after a few rows, the needles need to be cut from the yarn to free them. I don't know why. I believe she tried many times to show me and tell me why. But I could not help knitting so tightly as to require the scissors. Meanwhile, your handknit socks look fantastic! 

When baby #5 turned three and I returned to the work force, we wore hose. Panty hose. And skirts. I live in a small town and even in the enlightened 1980's, that was what was expected in offices and the library. Every once in a while I would dress down with a pair of black dress slacks. As a person with small feet and a limited budget, I would buy multi packs of boys black crew socks to wear with my dress pants. 

I think it was in the early 2000's that I interviewed for a position a farm equipment dealership. The agency told me that the dress was very casual. I was stumped. I ended up wearing a denim dress and was very overdressed for the part.  The office workers actually wore jeans. It took me a few years to get with that program, but I did indulge in a few pairs of khakis to go with the black slacks. 

I retired in my late 50's to take care of my father and be a stay home gramma. I still wore jeans and those boys crew socks. Then, one Christmas, I received a gift card to J C Penney. I can always find a million things to purchase, except when I make a special trip with a gift card. I saw a display of some beautiful socks that were "buy one package, get one free".  I did some math in  my head and the cost exactly equaled my gift card. I was the proud owner of women's socks! 

The socks I purchased were from Columbia. They were the most comfortable socks I ever owned and I had a drawer full! Every morning I feel very special when I put on my fancy socks. 

The other night I looked down at my foot and noticed a hole in one of my socks! I couldn't believe it until I counted on my fingers and realized how many years I have had my fancy socks. Yes, they are wearing out. 

My husband, who had heard my outcry, said "Why don't you just order more socks?" I told him they are expensive socks. He said "We certainly have enough money to buy socks, just order new socks". He just spoils me - lol. So I went  to Penney's website only to find they no longer carry Columbia socks. I had my heart set on Columbia socks. 

There is a Kohls about 45 minutes away so they were my next choice. They had the socks on sale and you can do curbside pickup! Except when I tried to order them and found they were out of stock and could not be ordered for store pickup. I could order them to be shipped, but would order $75 worth of socks to get free shipping. 

I went to Amazon and lo and behold, they had my socks at a reasonable price. And I ordered them. 

My new socks are more cushy (of course) and I am just delighted with them. My "old" socks are all blues and purples and my "new" socks are pink, grey and black.  I feel just as fancy as when I purchased my first pairs and smile every  morning when I choose a pair from the drawer. 

It's been a long year folks. I am appreciating the small stuff. And my word for January is SOCKS.  

Saturday? Or Every Day?

 Yes, it's Saturday. I know this because there are no toddler grandchildren here for the day while masked mothers teach in hybrid classrooms. I slept in because I could. I made "brunch" because we skipped breakfast. When I linger too long for breakfast, I usually make egg sandwiches with ham to cover both meals. This also means I will have to start thinking about supper since we will want to eat earlier. 

I am still in my pajamas at 1:20 p.m. Originally I thought I would make breakfast and shower.  Then I started watching grandchildren at a closed swim meet on zoom.  I asked my husband if we had any reason we were leaving the house this weekend and we couldn't think of anything. So now I am questioning the point of the shower or dressing. 

We are headed toward the one year mark of staying home. I think I have moved from boredom to feeling imprisoned to the dark hole of never going out again.  Even driving out of town for a curbside meal delivered to our trunk seems like too much of a bother. 

Two weeks ago we did a grocery pickup. I dressed up and did my hair for the trip. The kind people at Aldi put the groceries in the back of our vehicle while we sat face forward. I even wore make up. 

But I am one of the lucky ones. We are retired and don't have to leave our house. We have spent the past 42 years turning our starter house into the house of our dreams (which right now is two recliners in front of a television set . . .) We haven't been sick. We have not lost a member of our immediate family to the disease. We have lost friends and extended family which keeps us cautious. 

So here I sit in my pajamas at 1:30 on a cold, but sunny Saturday watching grandchild sporting events on Zoom. 

Four Years Ago

Four years ago I was disappointed. Actually more than disappointed. I was upset that a person I believed was entirely inappropriate for a leadership position of any kind was elected the president of the United States of America. 

I was a stay-at-home gramma. I had left my job before retirement when my mother was diagnosed with ALS and then, after her death, my father contracted cancer, suffered from congestive heart failure and had a massive stroke. When he died, my daughter-in-law went back to work and I had a baby. I went to church and walked with the stroller. My circle was small. 

My niece referred me to a "secret" Facebook group, women of a certain age who were privately venting and crying about concerns. And from that group I found information about the Women's March in Washington DC. I wanted to go. I wanted to speak. 

I found a bus leaving for Washington the day after the inauguration. We were not disrupting the process set forth in the Constitution of the United States of America. We were not going  for any violent end. We were exercising our first amendment right to speak at a permitted venue with a permit to do so. The next weeks were filled with posts with important information. As numbers increased, I would donate more money to fundraisers for port a potties. 

I felt I was the only person I knew in my small town who felt as I did so I bought a ticket for one on a bus leaving at 1 am from an airport two hours from my home. My family expressed lots of concern, but I was going.  A few weeks later a bus was added only 45 minutes from my home and I was able to sell ticket one and purchase a ticket on Bus 2.  

I went to the bus at 11 pm one evening with my apron with the slogan "Women go higher than rude, crude and lewd" and a piece of cardboard. I met about 60 men and women from this small college town, most older than myself. It was the senior bus! I sat with a lovely retired bookkeeper named Daisie who was concerned about the repeal of Obamacare affecting her adult son with autism. 

We arrived in Washington DC - not that easily. Our bus broke down on a highway in some state somewhere around 4 am. After waiting over an hour with no repair person, our driver got on his CB and had other buses with an empty seat or two stop to pick us up in small groups. The bus Daisie and I were on got lost in Washington, threw up his hands and dropped us off in a neighborhood on the outskirts of the city. Neither of us had ever been to Washington, but the local people were more than gracious and pointed us in the right direction. 

We walked for 10-12 hours that day, mostly nonstop. We saw college students, young mothers with babies, groups of teachers and nurses, older women such as ourselves. Everyone was respectful, helpful and kind. Many of us had brought extra trash bags for garbage. We were all "that kind" of person. We shared provisions, talked to everyone, took millions of pictures. But we never even got close to the program or the  march. There were so many women! We did march, we walked in a tight crowd on a parallel street about 3 streets over from the "real" march. Police officers and security were wonderful with questions and directing us. We were all respectful and grateful. 

Our day was not over since we had to find what happened to our bus home. A very nice woman in a uniform showed us how to find the metro that went straight to the parking lot where we hoped our bus would be parked. We finally got to sit down for about 30 minutes. We went to a lot where there were thousands of buses. After almost an hour - we found our bus! 

We drove home to a snowstorm and I got to navigate my way to my house where my nervous family were holding a vigil. The cell phone reception in Washington DC is awful and my phone was dead by the ride home. 

It was the most meaningful day in my life (okay after marriage and childbirth). I stood up for my opinion in a legal and meaningful way. What happened today in the Capital of our Country is worse than what I could ever witness. I will never forget the pictures from today. I will never forget the sadness and how sickening it was. I will never forgive my neighbors, friends and church family who rode those buses today. Yesterday was one of the worst days in the history of this country. 

Christmas Leftovers

Cleaning out the phone camera today and I found my quintessential Christmas Photo. A table set for four with only two diners, each with a computer screen ready for zooming with grandchildren while using our phones to log into the games the ten year old twins created. I have artfully hidden the power strip behind the centerpiece made for me by my eight year old grandson. 

I tried to fancy it up as much as possible. 

I thought it might be fun on Christmas eve if Mr. Merry and myself played a taste testing game with these Christmas flavored seltzers. The first flavor was Gingerbread which my husband felt tasted like the inside of a garage. 

 Our next flavor was Cranberry.  Mr. Merry felt this one tasted like kerosene. We enjoyed sips of this beverage while watching "Who's the Boss" as part of our 1970/1980 Christmas Sitcom Marathon. 

I still have second cans of these flavors as well as two cans each of the Peppermint and Green Apple.  Personally I found these pretty flavorless but tolerable. We did not repeat this exercise for New Years Eve. We had an icy rain storm over night and I was sipping decaf tea to keep warm.