[Two things to note: I ripped that pre-fab hole in my shorts on a drawer pull in the kitchen. It looks rather ridiculous. Also, that sock on the left was not that hiked up all day; my bad for getting a little overzealous.]
Yesterday, Eli and I had more in common for once than (a) a fierce love of napping, (b) fondness for tuna fish from the can, and (c) an aptitude for hassling Rob while he’s trying to accomplish something important. And this was: grey knee socks. Except Eli’s are striped.
I’d like to say I only did this because it was freezing yesterday and I forgot to shave, but honestly—I totally love these socks. They are so soft and warm. I’m constantly inspired by different ways of wearing socks and have yet to really hit the nail on the head. And also, I’m going to hazard a conjecture—I think they might be cuter under boots. Meh.
There are some obvious influences at work here. Let’s take a look:
[I’m equally torn between the grey scrunchie look on the left and Rumi’s top right look with those silk Alexander Wang grey shorts. Obviously, totally different, but both appealing for their own reasons. p.s. Rumi, you’re smoking, I don’t care what anyone says.]
Maybe it’s the shoes that are goofy. I’d offer more, but I’ve had this lingering paranoia ever since those commenters called us self-absorbed that any time I use the pronoun “I” or “me” that I’m going to sound wildly self-centered. Which is tough because it’s “my” and “our” blog. It’s making it hard to want to write about anything other than Eli.
Socks, shmocks. Is it the weekend yet?