“I don’t have a photograph, but you can have my footprints. They’re upstairs in my socks.”
― Groucho Marx
My Secret Obsession
I must confess to you, my dear reader, my judge, and jury. I have an obsession. Ahh, see. You caught me in a lie already. I have many obsessions. There, that’s better. I feel like we are communicating now. We’re on a level plane, face to face, with brushed teeth, and clean hair, and bright, wide-open eyes; your’s are an ancient soft pastel and mine, gray like moss or different entirely. I suppose the light has a lot to do with it.
That lovely scent of you battles in my mind, through the nose, into dreams and that’s how it all starts for me. Have I misjudged your intent? Likely. That is also how it goes most times. All normal, at least for me. Where was I? Oh, yes, my secret obsessions. Let’s talk about my recent one lifted from the cave of my dresser and most prevalent on my mind.
Wool Socks. There. I said it. It’s out. No turning back now. You can see my happy feet luxuriating in that Merino wool, so soft, so warm, so, oh, I don’t know. Perhaps you know what that feeling is like. Yes, they go up to the knee. Why wouldn’t they? It’s 21 degrees Fahrenheit or -6 degrees Celcius out there today. But, no chills race up from those toes, oh, no. The knees are quite pleased.
You know what I love more than wearing wool socks? Wool stockings. Not on me, silly. On you. I love to see wool stockings riding up to mid-thigh not quite reaching under a skirt or short shorts. Now we are really getting to my pointed pointless point. I don’t know if my male readers feel this way. We men don’t talk about much to each other, especially our obsessions. It’s our delicious sub rosa. However, we do burn up the internet with our comments.
No, we don’t talk. We are visual creatures always looking, looking, looking. But we do like stockings. This is why there is no need to talk, only to see, the more the better. And here is where you can help. Show us your socks. Those designs, the colors, and the patterns. Oh, dear Norse gods, don’t spare me any of it. Let me see your favorite woolen sock obsession. Share and we become a community of like-minded and artistic socked soles.
You can post your sock pic on your website and link back to this post. We’ll find you, judge you, be your personal jury where no guilt is ever assigned, only clemency and the urge to go on and live your wool socked winter life as you see colorfully fit to do.
Now you know my secret obsession, one of many, a worthy desire that connects us, face to face, sock to sock, with widened eyes so hazel, blue, green, silver or even gray. It’s all good. When it’s like that.
P.S. Tattoo’s really spin my head. Not my tats so much as YOURS. Your Tats are another of my obsessions. Let’s save that for later. For now, you have a sock challenge you must think about.