Friday, August 10, 2007


How many of you have had the nasty experience of runaway socks? I don't know what it is, maybe its the working conditions, afterall being in a potentially hot, damp and stinky environment isn't my idea of a good job, but a surprising number of socks simply disappear... This happens most often in the laundry as the socks find the magic doors in the washer and dryer, and know the password to get out and move on to sockutopia. While we miss them, I think that many of us applaud and admire their ambition to move on and find a better life. Fortunately, handknit socks tend to be much happier in their lives and socks, and far fewer of them simply leave without a word.
During our stay at MacLeod's Beach one of younger son's answered the call of the sea, leaving behind a stranded, bewildered and heartbroken mate... I should have seen it coming, but I didn't. The sock left behind sacrified itself to the great sock god by throwing itself upon a funeral pire. I can understand it's grief, but what I really hope is that it has found peace and changed our sock kharma.

Okay - so it was really just a campfire... Younger son has been playing in the surf our first night at the camp and had managed to get his socks and Crocs wet. So Mr. Me suggested that he take them off and play in the surf in barefeet... Fine - that makes sense. The only problem was trying to find a sand coloured sock in the sand at dusk! We could have just placed the lone sock in the trash, but the boys thought that a "sockrifice" would be far more fun! It got some odd looks, but whatever - it made the kids laugh! And considering this view, I can't say that I blame the other sock for wanting to stay on the beach.

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