... the journal

The Guest
Refrigerator Door

From  my cousin Donna's   fridge

DG-NEED.jpg (32680 bytes)

A diferent thing to do with poetry magnets



* Discussion *

Talk about it here.



WHAT I'M READING...


Deja Dead
by
Kathy Reichs

(not for the squeamish!)


WHAT I'M WATCHING...

Boston Public
Family Law


NEW

Samples of two of the
slide shows I've been making
can be downloaded from
this ZDNet page


Pictures from the Cincinnati are now up at Steve's Club Photo page.

Pictures from our Family reunion are on my own Club Photo page.



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That's it for today!

SOCK IT TO ME

28 August 2001

This month's "If" collaboration question is:

If you were offered the answer to one of life's mysteries, which would you choose to have solved? What would you do with the information?

I read through several of the excellent entries which have been posted already. I'm impressed that everyone is seriously thinking about life's imponderables, such as the meaning of life, is there life after death? why do children kill other children? and other such deep subjects. Jessica of "cleanliness is next to godliness" even wants to know which came first, the chicken or the egg?

Robin of "a (not so) ordinary life" touched on the subject I'm going to address, but chickened out and chose instead to examine what happens to us when we die. Yeah, that's a good question, but I have had enough experience with death and have read so much about death and dying that I have my own view of that process, right or wrong. I figure I'll find out if I'm right when the time comes. (All I know is that when I get to wherever I'm going there are two kids who are going to be grounded for all eternity.)

But I'd like to run with the other weighty subject that Robin glossed over. To wit, what happens to all the socks that get lost in the laundry? She specifically asked what happens to them in the dryer, but I'm not really sure where the problem lies--is it a dryer problem, a washer problem, or an "are you ever going to put that pile of clean clothes away?" problem.

I'm no stranger to lost sox. Below is the collection of sox which are patiently waiting the return of their errant mates:

sox.jpg (18139 bytes)

But I am an eternal optimist. I truly believe there will still be Social Security when I'm old enough to start collecting my $35 a month, I believe foods eaten while standing really don't have any calories, I believe that eventually I will find a way to reduce the amount of junk mail I receive, I believe that David Gerrold will some day finish the Chtorr series, and I believe that some day I will find the mates to all these sox.

Never mind that some of them were lost when we had our old washer and dryer, about 8 years ago.

How can one person lose so many sox? You put them in a washing machine in your own laundry room. You carefully remove them and put them into the dryer. You then remove the dry clothes and put them away. How can you lose 1 or 2 sox in the process? (Ok, so maybe I don't put them away on the first day--or in the first week--but eventually I do get them in the general vicinity of the dresser.)

Some would suggest that the solution is to have enough pairs of sox that you won't notice a few dozen singletons hanging around. There was a time when I started wearing clunky old lady shoes and I bought only black sox (black shoes and fire engine red sox look kind of tacky).

Are you aware of how many different styles and shades of black sox there are?

I sometimes get all excited. I periodically go through this stash of lost sox and see if perhaps a couple of mates have snuck in unbeknownst to me. I separate the sox out by color and imagine my joy when I discover that I have TEN black sox. Oh boy! I can finally reduced the pile a bit. But on careful examination every bloody one of those sox is a slightly different style or color. Or it inadvertently got thrown in with some whites and was bleached to a dull grey-brown. At the end of my pairing attempts, I put all ten sigletons back in the bag again with all the rest and wait until time for the next check of the sock bag.

I have no answer to the question, unfortunately.

But if I ever do find out what happens to all those sox, I'm sure to win a prize of some sort. Maybe the Nobel "piece" prize.

(If anybody else is interested, perhaps we could start a chain letter for unmatched sox. Send the person on the top of the list an unmatched sock and add your name to the bottom. In a week you should get back 100 unmatched sox--surely you're bound to get one pair out of that!)

And while we're discussing imponderables of life, can someone please tell me why all of the ants in the neighborhood have suddenly decided to commit hari kiri by freezing themselves to death? Each day when we open the freezer, there is a mountain of dead ants at both the top and the bottom of the freezer door, and yet despite the evidence of the futility of this practice, there still is a line of ants resolutely marching forward to uncertain death. (Ants apparently do not learn from experience.)

Let other people ponder the meaning of life or what happens when we die, or even which came first, the chicken or the egg.

I think my life would be a lot more complete if I could just find all the sox and keep the ants out of the freezer.


One Year Ago:
Rockin' In the Bonus Round


Some pictures from this journal
can be found at
Club Photo


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Created 8/28/01 by Bev Sykes

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