Garlic Pig

This past July, when I was celebrating my forty first birthday, my friend Julie gave me a pair of socks. And until recently, they’ve been hanging out in the back of my closet with the tag still attached. People who know me well can tell you that I am nearly always barefoot. It has to be really cold and bleak before I get the urge to put on a pair of socks, let alone shoes. These same people know, though, that when I finally don a pair, I take the event seriously. Nothing beats a really good pair of socks.

Luckily, Julie knows me like a book. She knew her gift would have its day. The socks she gave me are loaded with good attributes. They are the perfect thickness – sturdy, but not so thick they’ll stretch out those shoes that I never wear anyway. And they’re knee-highs. Which I love. Every year, about two weeks into the Wisconsin long underwear season, I start getting claustrophobic just getting dressed in the morning. Knee highs provide a marvelous respite from long underwear and tights. A little extra warmth, but not so constrictive.

 Julie is also aware of my weakness for anything striped, so not surprisingly, the socks she picked for me have stripes. But not just any stripes. Big, bold, stripes – pink, maroon (an excellent color combination right there) alternating with green and white. If you’re as choosy about your socks as I am, you might be starting to think these sound like darn nice socks. And they are. But just wait. It gets even better. Here’s the punch. Each sock has a neon pink lightening bolt going down shin. 

Now, I’ve never had an actual pair of super-hero socks before, but I’m here to tell you – they are positively transformative. Phone call you don’t want to make? Appointment you’ve been dreading? Proposal you want to knock out of the park? Slip into your super-hero, lightning bolt socks. I swear they help. It’s like the come infused with a surge of super-hero power. I don’t know how they do it, but they do.

“They” in this case are the good people at Sock it to Me, my new favorite sock company. Not that I had a former favorite sock company. But that hardly matters. I was so intrigued with my new super-hero socks that I saved tag with their website. I never save clothing tags.

But since I did, my sister-in-law got some kickin’ black and white derby socks for Christmas. My husband Mark, a fish biologist, got art deco fish socks. Oh, and a pair of Lucha libre wrestling socks. He teaches high school sophomores after all. My brother was the recipient of a much more modest, crew style, super hero sock in black and green. And my nieces? One got owls and the other got a pair that are now on my personal must-have list: PB&J. I’m sorry, but who wouldn’t feel better with a pair of peanut butter and jelly socks? Especially ones where the peanut butter is holding jelly’s hand, and jelly has a cute little pink bow? I suppose if you can’t wear super-hero socks every day. PB&J socks are a decent alternative.

The older I get, the more I understand just how little of the universe is actually within my control (as much I sometimes beg otherwise). But my socks? My socks are free domain. Life is simply too short to diddle with below average socks. So go ahead, sock it to me life! I can take it.