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I have a lifelong war with socks. I never wear matching socks – it’s a habit since adolescence, and that has made my tense relationship with socks (and shoes) a little better, but we’re still basically enemies. I have a LOT of socks, and at any given time, at least half have holes in them – and I swear those holes heal and reappear at random intervals.

There’s a song that say “I like to sleep late in the morning’, I don’t like to wear no shoes.”, and this how I would prefer things to be, but they aren’t that way yet. It’s weird – having no shoes to wear is the very definition of poverty, but conversely, it’s a common definition of freedom, too. It all depends on whether you’re barefoot by choice or by circumstance.
Most doctors will say barefoot is the healthiest way for feet to be treated. Our good friends the Abbots have embraced this notion in a way that earns my admiration, and I think they are better off for it (being barefoot, that is – I doubt my admiration affects them at all.)
At home I try to get barefoot as much as possible. We have old (100+ years) hardwood floors with wicked, ancient 6 inch splinters, but I have learned to step lively. I love to play onstage barefoot, too. I instantly feel connected to the room and the music. I saw Crosby Stills and Nash play years ago, and Graham Nash was barefoot, and I thought that was totally cool, and I try to emulate that when I can.
I don’t like having cold feet, so this is the time of year when my barefootin’ is curtailed. Wearing slippers without socks, or just padding around in socks is the next best thing – maybe that’s why my socks have holes half the time. Or do half of my socks have holes half the time? I dunno – I can’t keep track. I think I am going to hold a trial at my house this weekend, and sentence any socks will holes to the garbage, then go by some fresh ones, to get me through the winter months.

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