two kinds of people

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Two Kinds of People: Socks Edition

Elisabeth’s post earlier this week spun me on a sock tangent. She wondered whether people put their socks on before or after they put their pants on. (Go read her post to find out!) (I sometimes put my socks on first, sometimes once my pants are on. Depends on the pants.) But the more pressing question, in my mind, is HOW you put your socks on: Do you stand or do you sit?

I stand. I balance on one foot while I put one sock on, then balance on the other foot to put the other sock on. My dad does the same thing, as we discovered over Christmas. That’s the kind of riveting discussions we have around here. 

My husband and daughter sit to put their socks on. 

Based on this very small sample size, I’m extrapolating that there are two (primary) types of socks-putter-onners: sitters and standers. 

The only time I sit is when I’m putting on tights. Which aren’t socks, but are similar enough that I’m mentioning them here. 

Which camp are you in?

While we’re on the fascinating topic of socks, I have some other sock-related questions. 

Do you prefer fun socks or plain socks? When I met my husband, he wore pretty much only plain white athletic socks that he bought in a multi-pack from Target. A few years ago, I started buying him fun socks from Sock Fancy and Bomba and Happy Feet, and now he has a drawer so cram-jammed with fun socks that he cannot fit another pair in there. (Nonetheless, he got FIVE PAIRS of socks for Christmas.) 

I have experienced the opposite trajectory. I used to love fun knee-high socks in all sorts of patterns. But these days, I stick to a multi-pack of athletic ankle socks that I get from Costco. It’s just so much easier! I can rummage around in my sock drawer and grab a ball of socks and know it’s going to work.  

Speaking of balled socks: are you a baller or shot caller, I mean a person who doesn’t ball their socks? I ball my socks up with wild abandon. Yes, I have read that doing so puts additional stress on your socks, and can stretch them out. But I have never once had an issue, so I have decided it’s worth the risk.

My husband REFUSES to ball his socks. He will carefully tuck the top of one sock into the folded-over top of its mate and that’s as much as he’s willing to do. When it comes to his (now small) stash of athletic socks, he stacks them on top of one another. He is much neater than I am.

My daughter prefers a secret third option, which is to throw all her socks, unpaired, into her drawer and then complain to me that she doesn’t have any clean socks when I ask why, for the love of tacos, did she come down to breakfast YET AGAIN without her socks on. 

Do you wear socks to bed? My husband does not. I used to be firmly anti-sock while I slept. But since dealing with plantar fasciitis, and needing to wear shoes at pretty much all times, it’s just more convenient to sleep with socks on. Then I can shove my feet into my sneakers when I get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. I also tend to moisturize my feet overnight, and I wear socks while I do that so the foot lotion doesn’t get all over my sheets. Ew. Lotiony sheets.

However, I vastly PREFER having bare feet while I sleep. It just… doesn’t work out that way, these days. Sometimes I end up ripping the socks off in the middle of the night and flinging them into the dark.

How many pairs of socks do you own? I tend to get sick of socks and then buy new socks without getting rid of the socks I already own. My husband, as I mentioned before, has an entire drawer of fun socks… and a separate drawer for athletic socks. (To be fair, the athletic socks take up a small portion of the second drawer.) That’s a lot of socks!

I did a very brief internet search for how many socks a person SHOULD own, and the answer seems to lie somewhere between 7 and 16. I started to count my socks and then gave up, but I think it’s at LEAST 20 pairs. That’s probably a very conservative estimate.

Now tell me all your sock-related quirks.

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Five for Friday

It’s not only Friday, it’s the first Friday in November. I am not ready for the pell-mell can’t-catch-my-breath of the last two months of the year (and I don’t even want to THINK about the holidays; I am pretending they don’t exist), but ready or not, they’re here. 

  • We had our first snowfall of the season! I love snow and it was such a pure delight to see big flakes falling from the night sky, and then to wake up to a good two inches of snow on all the exterior surfaces. Especially because the roads were blissfully bare and dry. I did realize that a) I’d purged Carla’s snow clothing prior to the move, because she’d been wearing them for two years straight and they were sprouting holes and showed an inch or two of ankle and b) I’d never replaced them. Fortunately, Lands End is having a sale so I was able to order her new things. And new snow boots. 
  • Speaking of Carla, and snow, and clothing: she has extremely specific fashion tastes these days. And those fashion tastes are not always compatible with the weather. But she’s TEN, and I’ve grown weary of negotiating with her about whether shorts over tights counts as appropriate winter wear. Also, at what age does a child realize that it might be wise to put on a sweatshirt if you are cold rather than complaining plaintively about it to your mother? It’s not age ten, that’s for sure.
  • Halloween was fine. There was a neighborhood gathering, at which I felt completely overwhelmed. People were nice but not friendly, and there were so very many of them. I brought the wrong thing and used the wrong container (this group seems to lean quite Fancy), but at least I know better for next time. On the good side, Carla seemed to have a BLAST. There were tons of kids. Twenty? Fifty? I couldn’t keep track of them because they didn’t stay still, and sometimes they had masks on, and sometimes they didn’t. But Carla got to run from house to house in a pack of children and that made me feel very happy and relieved. We bought WAY too much candy and now have an entire grocery bag full of leftovers (on top of Carla’s haul), which I am itching to donate as soon as Carla’s school accepts donations. I wasn’t missing candy – so why am I unable to ignore the siren song of a fun size Snickers? None of my favorites showed up this year, either in the candy we bought or the candy Carla brought home; I’m partial to Milky Way Midnights and Sour Patch Kids. But I’m making up for it with the aforementioned Snickerses and a fairly obscene number of Reese’s peanut butter cups. 
  • Do you put outgoing mail in your mailbox, or do you take it to the post office? I am having a bit of a disagreement with someone about the appropriate course of action. Some context: One of us grew up in a country area that wasn’t served by the postal service; mail was delivered to a post office box in town. One of us grew up in the suburbs of a large city and had access to a mailbox at the end of the driveway. One of us believes that you put outgoing mail in the mailbox, and, in fact, this is part of the purpose of a mailbox; why else would there be a little red flag on the side of the mailbox meant to alert the postal worker to the presence of outgoing mail? One of us thinks that outgoing mail should be handled at the post office only, or perhaps at one of those once-ubiquitous blue mailboxes that used to be on every street corner but have all but disappeared in the wake of 9/11. Who is right? Where does outgoing mail go? If a person wants to utilize the home mailbox, do they have to call the post office to make sure it’s okay, or is lifting the little red flag alert enough?
  • I recently read the newest Robert Galbraith book, The Running Grave. It was truly gripping, despite the fact that it seemed like no one had really edited the thing, and despite the fact that the will they/won’t they storyline has been grating on me for about three books by now. In fact, reading it made me want to reread the series from the beginning, so I waited until we had unpacked all the book boxes to find the first book… and it wasn’t there. Neither were the second and third books in the series. My husband thinks that I may have started reading the series on my kindle, which sounds plausible. But for various reasons, I don’t want to read it on kindle again, so I am contemplating buying a copy. But then I will want to own ALL the books in the series, and that feels like a commitment I’m not ready to make. So. Here I dither, not reading the book I want to read, not buying books I want to buy, and not complaining about it on the book blog, but here instead. What would you do? I suppose I could check it out from the library, which would address a whole host of issues, some of which I started to discuss here but then deleted. However, for some unknown reason the library option isn’t appealing to me. What would you do? Have you ever bought a book you’ve already read just to own the complete series? What if I DO buy the rest of the series and the hardbacks are no longer available so half the series is in hardback and the other half is in paperback? Will that drive me book bonkers?

That’s all I have for today, Internet. Hope your Friday is sunny and that your weekend starts early!

I am kinda sorta attempting to complete NaBloPoMo, with the full expectation that life will make it impossible any day now. If you want to follow along, or join in the fun, check out San’s blog here. 

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There Are Two Kinds of People, Appetizers Edition

Because I firmly believe that my mother and I cannot possibly be the only two people in the world who are the way we are, I am going to make a Vast Generalization about appetizer serving.

There are two kinds of people: The people who put out the entire bag of chips, and the people who put out half of the bag and then refill as necessary.

The people who put out the whole wedge of cheese, and the people who cut a wedge of Brie in half, and put out half and put the other half in the fridge.

The people who put out the whole jar of salsa, and the people who scoop half the jar of salsa into a smaller dish and put the rest in the fridge, adding more salsa from the fridge as the dish gets low.

And on and on.

The reason I am a Refill Person is twofold:

1.) I am germ-averse, and so I don’t like the idea of saving something that other people have been nibbling on. If it’s chips, I don’t want to re-bag a bunch of chips that people’s hands have been in contact with. If it’s dip, I don’t want to put away and then eat something that other people have been dipping (and possibly double-dipping) into.

2.) I don’t want to waste food. If I put the whole container of hummus out on the table and people nibble at it for a couple of hours, I am not going to want to put the rest of it back in the fridge for future consumption. First of all, see item 1 in this list. Secondly, it’s been out in the air, gathering bacteria and getting warm. Yuck. Extra yuck if it’s a mayonnaise/cream based dip. Or guacamole. Or cheese. If I put out only part of what I have to offer, I can always add more without the risk of having to throw away a large portion.

I acknowledge that there’s a disadvantage to being a Refill Person, which is that you need to be constantly vigilant that the chip bowl isn’t getting too empty. And you have to be keenly aware of the Eating Enthusiasm level of your guests – if it’s waning, you either let the bowl empty out, or you only put in a handful of new chips. If it’s still high, you can fill the bowl up to the tippety top again.

Okay, there’s a second disadvantage. In addition to the vigilance, you might end up spending a decent amount of time going back and forth to the kitchen/fridge to refill, which detracts not only from conversation with your guests (potentially a plus, I suppose, depending on the type of people you are entertaining) but (more importantly) from your own snacking.