New Sock Day

I rarely, if ever, buy socks. I can remember the last three times new socks came into my life: a) when I got a bulk pack of gold toe/white top cotton crew socks for Christmas in 2002; b) scoring a bulk pack of cotton no shoe socks at a White Elephant in 2009 (someone got the socks and threw them into the “free to good home” pile. Who passes on free socks?! I also got the entire Beatles discography on one CD. Best White Elephant ever. Except for that time I got a kindle. I’m pretty lucky when it comes to White Elephant. Anyway–) and c) when Joel bought me awesome socks for my birthday last year. I wear socks until they are literally falling apart before I buy new ones, so my sock buying is usually every 5-7 years. Wild.

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When I was packing my suitcases for Sydney, I threw out all my old, hole ridden socks — which was all but three pairs (which happen to be the 3 pairs I’ve had for like 17 years and that won’t die): a pair of red argyle socks that I nabbed from my mom, another pair of red socks that I nabbed from my mom, and a pair of no show socks with cows on them that I nabbed from my sister when I was in high school. I thought about buying more before I left, but I was all “it’s always summer there and I won’t need socks! Lol!” I packed the three pairs and that was that. Flash forward to Sydney winter, where socks are a daily requirement and the three ancient pairs I brought all now have holes in them. And Joel is getting suspicious of me stealing his socks (because I definitely have been).

So today, I picked up a brand new 3 pack of socks. I got home and immediately put on a pair.

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New Sock Day combined with New $10 Sweat Pants Day? GET OUTTA HERE.

Is there anything better than New Sock Day? I’m surprised that I don’t buy socks at the first of every week, because I’m hard pressed to find something better than putting on a brand new pair of socks. Is there something in this world that holds more promise, gives more comfort, or makes you feel more primed and ready to take on the day than a brand new pair of socks?

I had a friend who once said, “Every day would be fantastic if it started with a brand new pair of socks.” And I totally agree.

The next two days are going to be amazing.

“I punched a shark!”

No, not me.

But Mick Fanning did. And it’s on every news channel in Australia. Seriously. At work, my desk is under three flat screen TVs. And at lunch time yesterday, all three were showing footage of Fanning going from the airport to his first press event.

Must be a slow news week. 

Also, Australians are badass.

And #allsharklivesmatter

3df084d7c71a2e44633145f4f27dc4b3But, can Mick Fanning eat 36 oz of oatmeal and survive?

Living on the Edge: Oatmeal

Or, as they call it here, porridge. But, being an American and not an orphan, I call it oatmeal.

I’m a big fan of instant oatmeal for breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner. It’s filling and delicious. When I was a kid, I would only eat either the Quaker Maple Brown Sugar flavor, or my mom’s stove top oats with added brown sugar, real sugar, and milk. I was picky eater. And I had the metabolism of a hummingbird, apparently.

Because I was super picky, I have – and still have – a huge issue with textures. For example, I loved oatmeal because I could add enough oats until it became a solid mass, whereas Cream of Wheat cereals were always too watery and gritty. And I had the unfortunate experience of eating a bowl of Cream of Wheat while watching Alien 3 at the part where the alien explodes out of the dog’a stomach and the entrails bore a striking resemblance to the cream of wheat and there are some things you just don’t forget.

[This would have been where I put the screen shot of the dog’s stomach exploding, to give you a visual reference, but I decided to be nice and forego it. This time.]

This texture obsession thing has always dictated how I eat my oatmeal. While I’ve branched out to different flavours (vanilla or strawberries n cream are delightful), the way I eat it remains the same.

  1. Rip open oatmeal pack, pour into mug (always a mug)
  2. Put the recommended amount of water
  3. Microwave for 90 secs
  4. Mix in second pack of oatmeal and stir until a solid mass
  5. Cut into slices and eat

Just kidding with that last step — but two packs oatmeal to one pack water makes it gummy and solid, and I love it right down to the bottom of my weird little soul. I’ve tried using one pack and adding less water, and it works in a pinch for when I only have one pack, but it leaves me hungry. And eating two packs means I’m full until late afternoon, so that’s also awesome. Also while the second pack combines with the first pack, I like to say things like “emulsify” and pretend I’m a scientist, even though I know that it’s not really emulsifying. I don’t know what the term is for oatmeal expanding with water – probably expanding – but I like the word emulsify and I don’t get to use it often enough. I’m really cool.

So I look forward to my oatmeal ritual. And I look forward to oatmeal. Yes, the older I get, the more I know that feel, Calvin’s dad.

maybe I’ll build some character, too.

All this to say, the other day I forgot my lunch at home. Or we didn’t make lunches. One or the other. But I was short on cash and short on the will to go outside, so I decided to eat some oatmeal, since I skipped breakfast in lieu of second coffee. Solid fiscal decision! But something went horribly wrong with my water measuring, and it was still too soupy after two packs. So I thought, “why not add a third pack? I like oatmeal. Sure!”

What I ended up with was like 16 oz of oatmeal. And I are all of it. Halfway through I thought “fuck, this is too much oatmeal.” But I grew up in the Great Depression and I hate to see food go to waste, so I was determined to eat it all. My hands were shaking with the last spoonful, as the 16 oz of oatmeal seemingly expanded to 36 oz of deathmeal.

They say oatmeal makes a good breakfast because it “sticks to your ribs.” More like, it stuck to every blood cell I had. All afternoon, I felt like I was going to throw up. And drinking water to help push it all through only made me feel more like spewing.

After all the oat fueled trauma, I survived. It was about 7:30 that night before I was hungry again, but my stomach didn’t explode with an oatmeal alien like that dog’s stomach in Alien 3.  And uh, yeah, let’s not talk about all that fiber.

This morning, 3 days later, I made one packet of oatmeal. I used less water. It came out perfect. I nearly puked with flashbacks of oat-stomach, but I finished the serving. Take that, breakfast food.

So, Audrey: 1, Oatmeal: 0

#LivingontheEdge

Living on the edge: Sunday

I sat down to write about how I was completely useless today, but I actually was relatively productive. I mean, if you don’t count that 2.5 hours I was stuck to the couch, watching Teen Mom 2 and wandering in and out of a coma nap. I cleaned the kitchen, stripped the bed, caught up with my sister, conducted another clothes purge, showered, re-made the bed, picked out my work clothes for the week, and even did a bit on my paint by numbers.

Luckily, it was warm and dry this afternoon, so the sheets dried quickly.
Luckily, it was warm and dry this afternoon, so the sheets dried quickly.
I didn’t even have to do laundry (I did that yesterday) or make dinner (since I also did that yesterday).

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Bolognese Party
One word can describe today: Riveting.

Tune in tomorrow – I’ll be organizing my socks.