I am a casual dresser. When I worked as a geologist, I wore jeans and boots to work, accessorized with a hand lens and a rock hammer. As a mom, my clothes were practical and washable, and now that the nest is empty, my clothing preferences haven't changed a bit. Back in my geology days I learned the value of warm socks, preferably wool, in cool weather. In those days, we didn't know about merino wool; itch-less wool socks didn't exist. Nor did we have high-tech moisture-wicking socks. I am not old enough that my mother knitted my socks, but my English father wore ones his Mum knitted. In fact she knitted all his underwear. Itchy thought that. He was an exchange student during WWII, arriving in Iowa in 1941, in the month of August, all kitted out with woolen underwear. It wasn't good.
Now there are not only extremely comfy warm socks available, they come in a beguiling array of colors and patterns. Warm and pretty socks are one of my weaknesses - I have a drawer-full. Why have numb icicle-toes when they could be clad in cozyness?
Tim reminds me to mention that there is another blessing to warm socks: taking them off at night, and wiggling bare toes.
I wish you happy feet!
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