Sock it to Me

I need socks for work.  I need casual dress socks.  I'm having trouble finding them.  I want beige socks, and I want blue socks.  I might even accept striped socks, since they'll be mostly covered by my trousers.

I figured that Father's Day sales would be rife with socks (and underwear) on sale.  They were, but either athletic socks or dress socks.  I even went to one store because it had on sale a brand I've worn before.  The store had black, casual dress socks, or it had multi-color packs (brown, beige, blue, gray).  To get as many blue or beige socks as I want, I'd end up with dozens of other colors I don't.

I look at the weekly sales papers in the Sunday newspaper, but some stores don't advertise in print, and one department store chain is having trouble staying in business, so they're not shelling out for print ads any more.  I look at their websites (and hope I can narrow down the search to what is actually in the stores).  I found two possibilities.

There also are stores that offer close-out or remaindered items.  These stores don't have sales because they claim their items are already steeply discounted.  They also can't say what they'll have in stock day to day, since they sell leftovers.  One of these stores is on the way to where I refuel my car, so it's not an out of the way trip.

Maybe I should wear just sandals to work and leave a pair of socks and shoes by my desk, on the off chance that I might leave the office at some point.

Work Stinks

I couldn't figure out why I was smelling ink so strongly, since I had already put away the pen.  It turns out that the pen had bled onto one of my fingers, so when I rested my chin on my hand, I could smell the ink.  Oh, dear, if I had the finger that close to my nose, then maybe...  Yep.  A quick glance in the mirror showed that I had gotten ink onto my nose.

I thoroughly washed my hands and my nose.  Now, though, I'm going to smell the soap all day, especially since it's a new container of the soap whose scent I don't care for.  Oh, well, I suppose it's better than my coworkers staring at the ink on my nose all day.

What Would You Do for a Klondike Bar?

In the news recently was a story about a dinner where the attendees had to pay $35,000 to be in the same room as Donald Trump.

My first thought was, "If I'm going to pay $35,000 for dinner, I'm going to get on a plane to Philadelphia so I can have a cheesesteak."

My second thought was, "If I'm going to pay $35,000 for dinner, I'm going to make sure there aren't any politicians around to spoil it!"

Or maybe I'd fly to Australia and eat Vegemite (which I dislike) in lots of different places.  It would be fun to post pictures of myself in all those places -- a travel-blog, as it were.

Always Read the Fine Print!

At the warehouse club last night, I saw a few Scooby-Doo DVD's (along with some other collections of Hanna-Barbera cartoons).  The boxes proclaimed "60th Anniversary".

"It can't...  Don't... No!"

This is not something to confront me with just two weeks after yet another middle-aged birthday, especially since I know that Scooby-Doo debuted in 1968, just three years before I was born, so the boxes must be wrong, because I'm not that da*n close to 60 yet!

I took a breath, slowed down my brain, and pondered.  "Oh!  They must mean the 60th anniversary of Hanna-Barbera, not just Scooby-Doo."  All's right in my world again.  (Whew!)

Mind you, if you're the age of the Flintstones, you're in trouble.

How Much Wood Would a Woodchuck Chuck?

I searched online to see how many needles per fascicle that Austrian Black Pine (Pinus nigra) and Ponderosa Pine (Pinus ponderosa) have, to take an inventory of how many of each we have in our nursery area.  In this link about P. ponderosa, I was interested to read about the species's use in nuclear testing.

The site says, "...pines were cut down ... and transported ... where they were planted into the ground and exposed to a nuclear blast to see what the blast wave would do to a forest. The trees were partially burned and blown over."

Well, duh.  Let's see if a dried out tree will catch fire.  Let's see if a tree separated from its roots will fall down.  Now let's extrapolate this observation to a living forest.  Who thought up that experiment?

(S)elect a King

Elvis Presley was the "King of Rock and Roll".  Michael Jackson was the "King of Pop" music.  Roger Miller was "King of the Road".  Here's another one, perfect for the summer solstice:  Nat "King" Cole.  (It's a bit odd that all the aforementioned singers died young.  Look at what we're left with.)

I probably should add that it is entirely in keeping with the season (and the higher than average temperatures we in the Southwest are experiencing) that our office air conditioning broke down yesterday.  I have the door open now because it's "only" 72 degrees, but if we keep the door shut most of the day, it's marginally cooler than outside.

Oh, and did I mention that the only toilet in the office is broken, too?

Yakety-Yak

You've probably heard the saying, "God gave people two ears but only one mouth because they should listen more than they talk."  Of course, some people blather on as if they never heard that.  (Well, they probably didn't, because they were talking.)

Some people will acknowledge that they have two ears and one mouth, but they'll probably point out that the mouth is larger, so they should use it more.

Other people have one mouth but no brain, so they use what they have.

If You Overwater Them, It's like Mudwrestling

I received the following e-mail from a client today.

Also i have moticed 2 penstemons which were planted too close to other plants and now that they are growing in they are fighting each other so need to move them over a bit.

It sounds like sibling rivalry (my brothers and I didn't always get along), but I've never heard of plants fighting (even the ones with thorns).  It's breezy today; maybe the wind is blowing the leaves of one plant against the leaves of another.

The Day After

I think a little more about aging around my birthday more than other days.  Otherwise, I probably wouldn't have noticed these reminders.

On Friday, I picked up some items from a local nursery.  One of the customers was getting assistance with her plants from a nursery staff member.  This is because she had a large order, not because of her age.  I thought she was in her lower 60's, but she complained to the 20-something helper, "Don't get old."  Aside from me thinking she was too young to consider herself old, I think it's an odd thing to say at all.  I mean, you might as well say to someone, "I hope you die young."

On Saturday, I had my semi-annual teeth cleaning.  At one point, I noticed that one of the fingertips of the hygienist's rubber gloves was a little loose.  I reflected that I'm so old, I went to the dentist before rubber gloves (and surgical masks, face shields, and protective eyewear).

Four More Years!

I couldn't think of anything witty to say about this year's birthday.  Instead, I'll share that I've been asking my friends (of similar ages) if they want to do anything special when they turn 50 in a few years.

When I asked one friend to think of something special to mark the occasion next year, he pointed out that my math was wrong and he won't turn 50 for another two years.  (Oops, sorry!)  Another friend replied, "That's if I live to be 50."  (And he calls me a pessimist!)  The third friend and I haven't been inspired yet -- neither for an idea of something grand to do, nor for a noteworthy response.

Well, I did have the thought that I could do an around-the-continent journey by train.  I could probably work that out as far as cities and connections on Amtrak (and/or the Canadian passenger rail system), but I get little paid time off of work, so I'm not sure I could afford a sojourn like that.  (When is Publishers' Clearing House going to knock on my door, anyway?)

Washington, D.C. Does Get Pretty Hot (& Humid) in the Summer

I love how my friends get me.  I mentioned in an e-mail to a friend that I would prefer to vote for Brain for President.  (Link provided in case someone who doesn't know me or the cartoon stumbles across this blog post.)  I added that I would even vote for Snowball -- and the friend knew exactly whom I meant, without reminding.

If you thought that Donald Trump had a snowball's chance in Hell of being elected, you'd think that a Snowball's chance would be better, wouldn't it?