Odd socks

I've still got nearly every sock I've ever had since I was 16.

When one wore out, I would keep its twin; many of them did wear out, though, so perhaps a more accurate comment is, I still have half of the socks I've had since I was 16.

I wore odd socks for a while too.

The biggest hit to my collection, came when my sister went to university. Unlike myself, who lived in dorms for two years and stayed at home for two years (because it was local), she moved further afield and went straight into a house share. We had often borrowed and shared socks between ourselves, and I was just as sneaky as she was about it. Aaand, we're both kind of last-minute people. So, as she was packing the night before, I'm pretty certain sorting out whose socks exactly were who's wasn't high on her priority list. If she had some of mine, clean or dirty, at the time she left, she took them with her.

Then she and her housemates ended up treating all socks as communal too, and a matching pair was cause for a celebratory lunch; by the time she left, it was also several housemates later. Again, she was packing at the last minute, but seeing as this journey would be made by car, rather than the van Dad had hired the first time around, the goal was to (aim to) travel light. Things like odd socks got left behind, and then they were gone forever!

But.

I still have a LOT of socks.

About 200, just to pull a figure out of thin air.

To be clear, that's 200 spare socks. I have about 20 pairs of socks that I actually wear. I switched to black socks, rather than coloured/patterned ones, about 18 months ago, but my odd sock collection was already well established.

I do have them set aside "for a purpose" -- for sock puppets! Although to be honest, I was saving them before I thought of that.

I remember the story behind almost all of them. Most of them were Christmas extras, when my socks were starting to run low (Mum didn't know I was hoarding them...). I remember which ones are my sister's that I never gave back. In some cases, I remember what happened to the opposing one: the red stripey one got a huge hole on the top of the foot because I pulled at a loose thread that wasn't so loose after all. The Little Miss Sunshine sock wore a hole through the bottom, after my shoe had worn a hole through it (actually, that happened several times... I generally tried to make shoes last longer than they should do). The socks with my name on were rescued from my sister's clutches a few days before she went to Australia. After they were washed, I put one of them in her case, with a note saying:

Uh-oh! A stowaway!
Make sure you bring 
me back safely.
xxx

...and then snaffled it back amongst the ditching of stuff when her case was too heavy at the airport. My  socks have memories.

But, I'm moving to San Francisco. Hopefully not permanently, but who can tell? For all intents and purposes it might as well be. At the very least it will be several years. And, moving stuff costs money. Lots of money. Plus, the apartment is smaller than here, etc.

More to the point, let's be realistic. I ... don't need ... 200 spare socks (that was difficult to say). Yes, I may someday want to make sock puppets. Yes, I may one day have children with whom to make sock puppets. But... probably not a whole school full. And honestly, for most Mums I know, just getting through the day with a vague hope of clean dishes, clean undies for tomorrow, something semi-nutricious for dinner, and, (if you cross your fingers and are very, very fortunate), having a focused ten minutes of concentration on homework from their children, is generally about as good as it gets. Everyone wants to be the sock puppet/flower picking/snowman making/telling old family stories Mum/parent, and, in the families I have witnessed, I have yet to see it actually happen. But, even if I did have a sock puppet moment, what are the chances that I couldn't locate one of my, or Pete's, socks for the occasion?

I could use the socks for other reasons, such as dusting mitts. But would I still need 200? Likely not. And again -- I could just nominate one of my current pairs of socks, or one of Pete's, for the occasion.

But, when I think about throwing those socks away, it makes me sad. Apart from anything else, it's the death of the sock-puppet dream. The death of the dream of being that Mum, maybe. The death of all of the potential I'd poured into it, waiting, wishing and hoping, for someday.

Death is sad.

Wedding Planning Wednesday -- Gathering my Supplies

Sorry for the delay, my internet crashed just as I was about to post. Good job I saved it!

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A fortnight ago, I didn't really have any papers for wedding planning. A few items (mostly flyers and business cards) were in a box. My Mum had quite a lot of papers too. We had a good ole session making an actual plan about ten days ago. The numbers of papers I have seems to have multiplied.

I wrote a to-do list (I did about 75% of it and then lost the list -- better than my usual batting average!). I have a piece of paper I've drawn a rough draft of the invites on. I have prices for some things now, and not just in my head. I relocated the "bride's book of lists" we bought when we were first engaged, in the USA, so now I have that with me (and it's actually useful! Tell that to 10-months-ago-me who was crossing things out in it left right and centre). The samples for the bridesmaids dresses have also arrived; all of my stuff is in a big gift bag that came with a present someone from church gave me in preparation for the wedding.

Since then I also have more lists. Lists, lists, lists! I have to confess, it's great not having everything in my head. I didn't even realise that until I'd written it down.

I'm getting together with almost all of the bridesmaids, individually, this weekend. (Ironically, the noticeable absence from that list is the one I live with, who is currently away camping.) The one who loves notebooks is going to try to sell me on notebooks to put all of my wedding papers in. I am open to convincing, but I still haven't ruled out a more binder-like structure. Stay tuned.

Integrating with the Natives

I just asked for a band-aid. Rather than a plaster, which is what we call them over here. (Don't worry, my thumb is fine. I just knocked the scab off whilst washing up.)

I have been known to say things like "Shall I put this in the trunk [boot]?" or "Can I borrow ten bucks? I mean, ten pounds?", and I have been mocked for saying "Stick it in the trash can" rather than "Put it in the bin."

That being said, I don't think I'll ever say "Math." ;-)

Spirit Sundays -- Conviction

During the summer, my church has switched to all-age services every week. As part of this, we've been watching some videos entitled 'What's in the Bible?', that are aimed at children (they use puppets), but are packed full of good stuff theologically. In today's video, they defined sin (things that cause separation from God) as, when we let others tell us to do our own thing even if it hurts other people's feelings.

Wow, conviction! Hit me square in the chest!

How many times during wedding planning do we hear or say the words that it's our wedding, it should be what we want (and to hell with people who want us to do it differently)? How many times have I had the exact same attitude towards my own Mum? We have very different ideas, and in order to protect my own and give them a fighting chance to occur, I've been, well, protective. Defensive. Unpleasant. Without being deliberately callous about it, I've hurt her feelings.

I am trying to learn from my mistakes. I had a long talk with Pete about it, of the "I hate it when you're right" variety. Then, because I gave a bit and she gave a bit, we've actually made real traction with wedding planning, so that's a good thing (I had gone round specifically to do wedding planning with Mum). I now have an actionable to-do list that I intend to complete soon. I've identified (most of) the things I need to do now, and the things that can wait until later. The impartial 'Bride's Book of Lists' that I've bought has helped in that regard too. Most of the items on my list can be undertaken in 15 minutes or less, many in five.

Bring it on.

Spontaneous Saturdays -- Beach!

This Saturday, we're taking an impromptu (planned the night before) trip to the beach. The Dad's away fishing, so it's the Mum, me and the kids.

I wish Pete was coming with us (but then I always wish Pete was with me, especially during the good bits).

I love going to the beach! Some of my happiest childhood memories. I still get as excited as a four-year-old with the "I can see the sea!!" business.

Pete... doesn't. I drove him crazy with that when we took the coast-road on our road trip. His happiest memories are something else. If the beach is the 'venue' for an 'actual activity', he's fine with it, but being at the beach and having that be the entertainment isn't that impressive to him. Church on the beach? Cool! Oyster-picking with his mates? Cool! Fishing on the beach? (He doesn't fish, but... ) cool! Sunbathing, swimming, rock-climing, building sand castles, looking in rock pools... not really his thing.

We did have a nice beach day (in my opinion) before we went though. That is, until we I went swimming wading in the Pacific Ocean though. The currents there are MUCH stronger than they are on my island nation, the tide knocked me off my feet! I wonder if I'd be able to get swimming lessons out there to handle the current?

...Oh. What would Brenda say?

I'm halfway through Laundry Day and have basically ground to a halt. Laundry should not be this complicated! Isn't laundry the easiest chore there is? Get eight laundry baskets, play hoop-la with all the clothes, bung one load in, keep checking on it, put it in the tumble drier when it's finished, rinse, repeat, and then take over the dining table to get all the clothes folded at the end of the day (whilst still reading blogs and playing commuter games during the day)?

Well, it was, until I realised that putting the washer on for two and a half hours at a time, starting at 9:30am, would not get eight loads of washing done by the time we need to eat dinner. (I started the day folding-as-I-went. That lasted two loads.) I started washing on quick-wash which takes less than 3/4 of an hour. Yes, I've cracked it! ... Until I forg realised that I was still putting the drier on for two and a half hours, even the super-duper big one that holds two loads. Until the washing is three loads ahead of the drying, rinsing a sweatshirt that still looks stained took longer than blankety-blank washing it in the first place, and I... am very overwhelmed.

I could tell Brenda about the laundry being behind. She is lovely and it's just technology and these things happen to everybody at some point. It's how I handled being overwhelmed that I'm not sure of.

I... put my head in the cupboard. There, I said it. I want to take it back but I won't.

I opened both doors to one of the kitchen cupboards, I leaned my head forward and (partially) closed the doors behind me. Behind my ears, so I couldn't hear as much. Where it's slightly darker, slightly cooler, just overall less stimulating.

Then my mind fast forwarded a year or so until the first time Pete catches me doing this. He loves me. (And he knows he's never met anyone like me before, but he also knows me. Knows me. He gets me.) So he wouldn't judge me for hiding in the cupboard. Or building a den in the bottom of the closet. Or moving the sofa forward and sitting behind it on the floor. Or whatever the next thing is.

Then I thought how I'd feel if it was Brenda instead. Suddenly that feels a lot more vulnerable.

I reiterate, she is lovely. But I video chat with her once a month, once every two months, that kind of time frame. I video chat with Pete every day and it isn't enough. Annnd... I'm not marrying Brenda. I'm marrying Pete.

This plan suddenly seems a lot more fragile than it did before.

Summer's here!

The kids broke up from school yesterday. I went to the park with Older Son so he could blow of some steam. It was hot yesterday and I wasn't dressed for the weather. Still in Jeans in the middle of July. It reminded me of when Pete and I were on our road trip last year -- he's from San Francisco, where it's foggy, and not as warm as people generally think of when they think of California. Because people (myself formerly included) think of California and they think of Los Angeles. Where's it's really hot and sunny. Weather-wise, Pete likes it as per San Francisco.

On the first second day of our road trip, which was warmer-than-SF-but-not-in-the-same-league-as-LA, Pete opened the windows and let in a breeze. I shut the windows because I was then too cold. Pete turned the fan on because he was then too hot. I turned the fan off because I was then too cold. Pete opened the windows because he was then too hot. This went on for an hour.

Finally I said, just so we know how big of a difference we're working with here, please, just once, can we leave the windows shut and the fan off until I say that I'm too warm? It... took a while. Beyond the point where Pete was saying "I don't know if I can keep driving in this heat."

Yesterday... was hotter than that.