Migratory patterns of socks


My Fuck You socks and Strong Lady socks

My Fuck You socks and Strong Lady socks


So if you know me you know I usually steer far away from the math, (no real numbers were used in these figures don’t worry) but I was turning the laundry after cleaning, sorting, packing, and organizing my kids rooms for our Epic Adventure,  and I had found an incredible, staggering amount of socks. I had also just cleaned out both cars since purchasing The Mother Ship, (thats the name of the big ass SUV we just got.)

So I’m knee deep in socks and I get to thinking of where they all came from and how come we “Never have any flippin’ socks in this house.”

Off the top of my head here’s what I came up with… (keep in mind I live in a house with 5 dudes and a dog, your infestation may not be as severe.)

At any given time one has at least 6 socks in your couches/chairs. Do you have a living room or say a playroom or game room? (thats about 20 socks for me) Lets say 3 socks under each bed, in the covers, down the crack, or general bed area (4 beds for us). Another 2 under the seat in your car or in the trunk from a sandy beach or playground trip. There’s 9 in the clean basket in your room but none match. 13 in the dryer half wet. 11 in the wash. 23 in the dirty pile. 1 in your big purse/diaper bag. Keep in mind baby socks are particularly sneaky…A few in the toy box, a few crammed in shoes in the shoes closet….oh, and the 5 stretched out grungy ones with holes in your drawer, don’t forget those.

So I learned two things; First, A socks natural habitat is erywhere and they like to migrate. And, B) Now that I know that I don’t have to feel bad about sock stress, its just the way of the sock. Woosaah.
…And for a moment i forgot what i was doing and wondered, where am I going to put all these socks?…then I remembered…..

Thank god we are moving to San Diego cuz we need to wear more flip flops!!

Here are some fun visual aids….



Gypsy Blood

I love moving. Gypsy blood fo sho.

I had a dream last night that my mom and I were back visiting a lovely place we used to live, Fall City, Washington. But the small adorable town was now a huge post apocalyptic city, over run by scary unseen things and terrified people. The river (as it would do almost every year) was flooded up almost over the road. I felt like I knew where to go but nobody would listen to me, not even my mom. (Which makes sense).

So I wake up on this beautiful Mother’s Day morning early enough for an hour of peace to read and think (and apparently write) on my blanket, in my tree fortress backyard.

Randomly, here is what I read,

“When you live several years in any certain house or town or locality, you make a spiritual self belonging to that locality. Every house, tree, road or other object you have long been in the habit of seeing there, has a part of that self in thought attached to it. Every person who knows you there has in his or her mind the self you make there…..You return to such a place after a long absence. You have during that absence changed radically. You bring with you a different mind, different cells. You are in reality a different person.”

Interesting. I have experienced that many times in going back to visit old places I have lived. Maybe thats why I love moving so much. The new chapter, the adventure, the amount of growth and character building that comes with it.  You are literally moving forward in life. Did I mention the adventure part?

I really have much more to say on this subject but I have to go cuz little Logan bear (6) just came out with homemade Mother’s Day gifts! My favorite!

Talk amongst yourselves….