Weekend things

Sundays are for baking, my friends. Baking and blogging, with a little cleaning and snuggling thrown in there for good measure. I’ve been reveling in my sock collection lately. My favorites are the tie dyed ones. They’re great because none of them match, but they all kind of match and I have about five different pairs of them. They’re not too hot either. Nobody likes to have sweaty toes, but you don’t want cold ones either. It’s a delicate balance. The super fuzzy ones are a good novelty, although not nearly as luxurious as the tie dyed beauties. I especially like it when I mismatch the fuzzy ones. It makes me feel like the coziest goofball there ever was, like I have a secret inside joke that only my toes, ankles and arches are in on. Then there are the super long ones. I love these guys in a fierce, protective way. I’m always worried I’ll lose one. It’s a weird feeling, anxiety over the potential loss of a sock. I only have two pairs that I actually want to match with each other and I never let those lovebirds separate except for the brief but terrifying trip to the laundry room. One time a friend got me socks for Christmas and it was a pack of three individual socks with a different pattern on each. All the patterns were in the same color scheme and I still, to this day, think it was one of the best gifts ever. Now that Thanksgiving is over and Christmas music is officially acceptably playing everywhere, I just want to bake bread, read books, burn candles, write blog posts, cuddle my bulbous dog and buy everyone mismatched socks.

Oh, and my Thanksgiving was filled with friends who are starting to feel a lot like family, awkward fuzzy photos and endless games of “Big Booty.” The rest of the weekend included deep heart to hearts, a lot of self-reflection, several really long walks, gorgeous sunsets, Sylvan Esso and slobbery dog kisses.