Normal? You decide

I like socks. But not just any socks. The stranger, the better. I seek them out. And yes, it does make dressing a challenge. What really goes with Elmo socks? Or neon striped socks? Or polka dots? And it's even more of a challenge when you realize that many of my pants and skirts are also strange colors, if not strange patterns. (Yes, I have more than one pair of purple pants. I can't help it.) And please keep in mind when looking at my collection that I took these pictures in November, so there are several more pairs of socks now. And when I say several, that probably means at least 6. No more than 8. Or maybe 12. Here are the "light" ones.


And then there are the "dark" ones. The polka dots are some of my favorites, even though I'm not a huge fan of knee socks.



And here is the Christmas collection, plus the super fuzzy, roam around the house socks. Plus one pair I nearly missed when taking the pictures.


And then my favorites. The Halloween collection. (Technically the purple argyle-ish knee socks in the "dark" collection came in a Halloween set, but those get every day wear.)


It keeps my coworkers and my acupuncturist amused. Well, and me. What more can I say?

So if you're ever out and see that great pair of socks, you know where to send them!

Feels like winter

Every once in a while, it does snow in Atlanta. The cat was not amused.

The Office Guest

You know it's Monday when you walk into your office to suddenly discover you now have a roommate. A furry, winged one. People thought I was crazy to just be sitting in there with it, carrying on with my day. But what else was I supposed to do? Scream like a little girl? Go into hysterics? Better a bat than wasps, which are also frequent guests to my office. If life gives you bats, take pictures--my philosophy of the day.

If a Tree Falls

The philosophical question for the month is, "If a tree falls in your side yard and nobody is home, does anyone notice?" Or perhaps more accurately, "If a tree falls in your side yard and nobody is home, how long does it take anyone to notice?"

Several weeks ago, I came home from work and thought that this tree in front of our house looked a little different. I stood and looked at it for a while, but couldn't really figure out what was different and gave up. How I knew anything at all was different, I can't say (see first picture). I just figured a branch had fallen or knocked down another one or something.


So a good week later (possibly longer), I actually looked into our side yard and noticed that an entire tree had fallen and hit the branches of the tree in front, thus making it look "different." This is a twenty or thirty foot tall tree. (See second pic with big, yellow arrow. I can't estimate height, or as the case would be now--length, with any accuracy.) Must have happened during the day while we were at work is all I can say, and luckily it went in the best direction possible! Just one of many examples of the truly odd, strange, and even bizarre stuff that happens at our house. (And yes, I know, the ivy is bad. I do what I can, but there is far too much of it for one person to deal with. Feel free to come help me try to contain it while cursing the neighbor who originally planted it.)

Isn't It Ironic

I recently read a book about the carving of the memorial on Stone Mountain by David B. Freeman called Carved In Stone: The History of Stone Mountain. Despite one of the worst editing jobs I've ever seen, it was a really interesting book about the 'discovery' of Stone Mountain and then the decades long struggle/debate about the Confederate Memorial on the mountain. However, I couldn't help but be struck by the irony in it. It seems like there has always been controversy on how the mountain and the land around it should be used. But here are a couple of comments that really struck me (see previous post about another book to get an idea on what I think of the way the park has gone).

During a debate in the 1920s on which sculptor should be given the task of finishing the carving, the members of the association tried to get Gutzon Borglum dismissed stating that he "allegedly tried to organize a stock company to operate road houses, drink stands, and other money-making schemes which "would have converted the whole mountain and its environs into a carnival of cheap amusements."" (Check out the park's current website to see how that eventually turned out.--Stone Mountain Park)

Then the Association got upset about another guy, R. J. Spiller who wanted to lease the top of the mountain. They were concerned "that Spiller would build "a regular hunky dunky which will be an ever-lasting-disgrace to the Stone Mountain memorial."" Again, see my previous post for my feelings on said memorial, as well as the link to the park for how we honor this memorial. Can you say lasers?

And one of my favorite parts. In 1928, the Association was (once again) totally without funds to complete the project. George F. Willis, president of the Association, proposed charging money to view the carving to raise the funds to complete it. Sam Venable (one of the originators of the original idea) "strongly objected. He always maintained that the public should not have to pay to see a memorial."

Even after saying all of this, it really is a great park. I just wish it had been left as a natural area instead of having been slowly transformed into the second most visited theme park in the country behind Disneyworld (according to the book).

My cat is a bigger freak than your cat, Part II

(aka--The cat toy industry is a big, fat joke.)

The other night, my husband and I were sitting in the computer room, minding our own business. He was playing a game on his computer and I was reading or cross stitching. Thrasher had wandered off somewhere, but suddenly came back in, pouncing on something and batting it around. I sort of glanced over at the cat. I couldn't see what he had, so I figured he was just playing with an imaginary bug (if you own cats, you know this game--they chase things that aren't there). In any case, he definitely did not have anything that he shouldn't have.

Well, Thrasher continued to play with whatever this was for a really long time. At least 20 minutes, which I believe is the human equivalent of 2 1/2 weeks. He'd go out in the hall with it, back into the computer room. Out into the hall, into the bathroom, back to the hall, back to the computer room. He even managed to get the whole way out to the living room and then back to the computer room. At this point, I'm getting really curious about what on earth he has since I don't ever remember him playing with something for this long. So I look down. The big, giant goober has (I swear, I'm not making this up) a 1 centimeter square piece of toilet paper.

I could have saved a lot of money on cat toys and just bought a roll of Charmin.

Why I love Georgia, part 2

The fact that the cover picture on a book entitled Natural Wonders of Georgia is the image of a perfectly good granite outcropping (mountain, dome, whatever you want to call it) ruined by a carving of Confederate "heroes." 3,000,000 more beautiful images that could have been used, and the publishers chose that one.