Betty Boop is winking and throwing hugs and kisses from my socks. When I wore my Betty Boop Christmas socks, I wrote about how Betty Boop and Christmas just don’t seem to go together. However, it’s Valentine’s Day, and Betty is such a flirt. Who can imagine Heart Day without the iconic Miss Betty? She and Heart Day just go together. Like peanut butter and jelly. Soup and sandwich. Cookies and Girl Scouts. Hugs and kisses. X’s and O’s. Some things are meant for each other. Unlike Betty and Christmas, Betty and Valentine’s Day are a perfect match. This holiday brings up a lot of emotions in people. To some, it’s fulfilling, a chance to express to the one they love just how special they are. To others, it’s a reminder of what they don’t have. Cards, roses, stuffed animals, and chocolates in the stores and on TV are all constant visual assaults. And there’s another group of people, too, who are affected by this particular holiday. These are the people with their hearts on their sleeves, those brave souls who choose to declare themselves up to a new love and risk rejection or gain elation. Whether you have a love, are looking for love or have given up on love, I say adopt Betty Boop’s attitude. Flirt a little. Throw a kiss or two. Take a chance. Go a little big. Even if love doesn’t find you this year, hug someone else. You never know who might need a hug more than you do. Wine and cheese. Love and passion. Candy hearts and “Be Mine.” Betty Boop-Oop-a-Doop and pink lips on my left sock. Pink lips and Betty Boop-Oop-a-Doop on my right sock. Some things just go together. XOXOX
I’m feeling down this morning. There’s no reason for it. I’m just having a blue day. I can blame it on Shirley Temple’s death, I suppose. I loooved Shirley Temple almost as much as I loooooved Annette Funicello. It’s sad to know that they’re both gone.
Or I can blame it on the economy or the long winter and the deep snow that never seems to end.
I can blame it on medical issues and having to wait for results, even though I am certain that nothing was found. It’s the stress, you know. What if between now and when the test was done last week, they discovered a new something or other that due to its rarity, they will name after me. That’s worth being blue about because now millions of women will get this odd disease as they age, and that is what I will be remembered for. “She has Benjan Disease, also known as Hip Widening Disease. There’s no known cure, but when she sits around the house, she really sits. Around. The house.” Even an old joke can’t cheer me up right now.
I can’t “Blame It on the Bossa Nova” which I think we played in junior high band. I can’t “Blame It on the Bellboy” which is a Dudley Moore movie from 1992 that I’m probably glad I didn’t see. I can’t even “Blame It on the Boogie” because a smooth Michael Jackson and his brothers told me not to. It’s amazing what you can find on Google with a few key words.
I’m just blue this morning. It happens. Sometimes, I just have to limit my exposure to sadness or it drags me down and wears me out. But today, since I can’t find a cause, I’m allowing myself to wallow until noon.
My “soul doctor” prescribed recharging my battery with dark chocolate. So, when noon arrives, that’s it! I’m popping the dark chocolate, and the blues are done. They’re over with. I will put on the cheeriest Valentine socks that I own and go out into the world with a bright face and a heart full of ups and not downs to buy more dark chocolate.
To me, Valentine’s Day socks are as magical as Christmas socks. How can I not feel better, knowing that my snow boots are overflowing with hearts and cupids? Come on, noon. Mama needs dark chocolate.
And maybe another pair of socks.
Posted in Sockery
Tagged Annette Funicello, Blame It on the Bossa Nova, Blues, chocolate, Cupid, Hearts, humor, Michael Jackson, Shirley Temple, socks, Valentine, Valentine's Day
It’s Valentine’s week. Some people love it; some don’t, but I think we can all agree that it’s the best time of the year to wear Valentine’s socks. After all, doesn’t everyone? I was amazed at Christmas (was I really?) to discover that not everyone wears special holiday designation socks, but I can assure you that even though I own 58 pairs of Christmas socks, I am by no means a sock nut. Consider, please, that I have only a modest amount of non-Christmas socks. Six pairs for Valentine’s Day, two each for St. Patrick’s Day and Halloween, and one pair for New Year’s Eve. Someone obsessed with holiday socks would not be thinking about weeding out the stockpile, now would they? Some of my Christmas socks have seen better days. Some, due to poor construction, are too tight (It has nothing to do with my cankles, honest.) And let’s face it. If I don’t weed out some of the oldies but goodies, I won’t have room for more, now will I? So after a month and a half of boring socks, I’ve eased into the Valentine Sock Season, which is much shorter than the Christmas Sock Season, with a pair of black socks with an argyle diamond stripe and pink hearts. Plain on the bottom, colorful on top and hidden under my pant leg. As I’ve learned in 35 years with my husband, love is like that, especially the longer it goes on. We get used to our partner. Being together in our everyday routine becomes boring, expected, but under the surface, where no one else is looking, the colors of the heart are always there. Happy Valentine’s Sock Season.