Sock Romeo

What started out as a one man party has now turned into an army….

An army of single socks mingling in my bottom drawer commiserating in their loneliness.

I always keep them, you know.

If they don’t find their mate straight out of the dryer, I let them stick around.

I look them in the eye and tell them someday their prince will come. I promise them that if they go about their lives, chin up, there eventually will be a lover’s reunion.

“Don’t settle,” I remind them when I see one of them eyeing a less than desirable suitor.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” I lecture as I untangle a clingy polyester blend from a cotton athletic sock.

Other times, a different reminder is needed. “Let’s do try to stay within our own league,” I whisper to a worn out wooly who was whistling at a satiny hose.

I’ve always had a tender heart for the lovelorn. But, I do think things may have gotten out of hand.

It was a late Saturday night. Hubby and I had fallen asleep early watching a flick. I was lost in a dream about….ah, no matter.

Suddenly, I heard some rowdiness coming from the bottom drawer.

The closer I got, the louder it became.

I clearly could make out Disco music mixed with laughter and some….muffled groans?

I opened the drawer a crack and was horrified.

I don’t want to get into details, but let’s just say I have quite the wild crew residing in my bottom drawer.

Might be time to weed out the undesirables.

Anyone interested in a fishnet thigh hi?

She seems to be the root to this madness….been like a cat in heat since she’s lost her better half….

Four year old inspiration

My heart has been captured by a four year old ballerina.

The stiff tu-tu. The pink tights. The tight bun.

I watch her stumble and scurry across the ballet studio floor.

Each dance move always ends with an elegant bow, despite the slips and spills.

Every spin, no matter how topsy turvy, is followed by an elegant stretching of the arms skyward and a teetering balance on tippy toes.

Each pirouette. Every plie. All are followed by a confident flourish of the arms and a curt nod of the head.

I am inspired.

As I lay entangled in the next awkward Downward Facing Dog in my Beginning Yoga class, I will think of that tutu.

I will sigh.

My legs burning. My arms shaking. My yoga pants creeping in a Northward direction.

I will try again.

And, I just might finish class with an elegant bow and a curt nod of the head.

Hope it helps regain my composure.