From the memory vault....

I have a huge collection of fun socks.  If you know me well, you're already aware of this.  I have been known to amuse people by my choice in footwear.  Most notably, I cracked up paramedics treating my cracked-up self following my July 2009 car wreck, because I was wearing socks festooned with gingerbread men and Christmas trees.  (What can I say?  The black background matched my shirt.)  I have Valentine ones.  Halloween ones.  A lone pair of "fall" socks, which have scattered, color-changed leaves embroidered on them.  Winnie-the-Pooh.  Mickey Mouse.  Kitties.  Snowflakes.  Polka dots.  Thick, fluffy and warm.  Christmas (obviously).  Patriotic!  They have their own under-the-bed drawer because my collection is so vast.

Now, I'm telling you all of this to tell you this story:

Moons ago, somewhere between 1996 and 2000, I was relatively poor (as most young marrieds are), shopping for Christmas gifts, and trying to find good bargains that would also qualify as good presents.  I think, the year before, I had found this great tie for my dad.  (Although, it might have been the same year.  Not sure.)  It was very classy...black background, and shades of silver and white shapes decorating it in various sizes.  Of course, those shapes were the famous head outline of Mickey Mouse, in varying sizes.  Dad loved it...because he could wear it to work, and unless you were looking carefully, never know it had Mickey all over it.  Subtle, classy, and fun.  (He liked to wear it on days that he had bureaucratic meetings.)

So...in the course of my shopping, I found these socks.  They were beige.  They looked like standard dress socks...all the way up to about two inches above the ankle, where they had a woven-in reindeer head with the caption "Will Work for Doe."

Did I mention they were also musical?

Now, Dad's not one to shake his presents.  At least, not in the three and a half decades I've known him.

Allow me to rephrase.  Dad's not normally one to shake his presents.

That year, I'd managed to get my shopping and wrapping done in enough time to ship the gifts to my folks--who lived over 600 miles away--in time for them to arrive before Christmas, and thus, were able to actually be opened on Christmas.  Dad picked up the wrapped socks and gave it a little shake, causing enough pressure on the music chip sensor that it began to play.

He loved the socks.

He wore them to a big meeting one day.

He shouldn't have crossed his ankle just so over his other knee.

Sort of like this poor MP.

Except without the apology in the charming British accent.