Remember when you were younger and, if someone asked you what you wanted for, say, Christmas, your mind raced to all the high end items you could think of? Well, mine did. Nothing was below $50, which is still a princely sum for one item gift. Life can feel like a game of oneupmanship; who has what and how can I get something comparable. That happens when you attach your self-worth to things. Funny how it takes having a lot of your ability to spend removed to have you look at what you really value.
When someone asks me what I want for [insert holiday], I really look at what gives me pleasure. It's not the cost that pleases me. It's the item and the sentiment which is, I hope, behind the gift. I've been so bad this first half of the year in not getting cards out for birthdays or holidays. If I do get the cards out, it's just a card with nothing hand written beyond my name. I have had no gumption to scribble words and my head feels like someone drained my personal dictionary. I feel as if I came into contact with the "villain" in The Ink Drinker. (This is a great book, too.) And sending a small token of my estimation of someone has been kind of right out. I have this, probably mistaken, belief that I simply cannot just send a card and, say, a Valentine's gift, without there being a 6 page letter attached. I'm fairly certain my friends will accept most anything I send them just to keep in touch.
So Valentine's Day came and I managed to get some cards out. One of my best friends, Patt, sent a small packet, which made me feel badly because I don't remember sending her anything. She sent me socks; wonderful, glorious socks.
Aren't those cool? I love the bright colors. She also sent these.
Cats. Best socks have cats on them.
Mother's Day arrived. I really botched that holiday. I didn't even get my mother a card, but I went to Iowa to get her and bring her to Illinois for her trip to Virginia. I bought her lunch and dinner for Mother's Day as we journeyed to Illinois. Carole sent a nice package with, you guessed it, socks.
More cats and polka-dots. The last pair is the best.
Breakfast! I laughed so loudly when I opened these.
What this means is I can critically appraise my socks and remove those which are thread bare. I am thrilled. New socks are so comfortable. I would be happy if everyone gave me socks as a gift. I'm not fishing, mind you, just making an observation. These were such unexpected and fun gifts. Socks. I love socks.
Beverage: hot cocoa