Pam Ward Humor Columnist

  Fall is here and it’s a good thing. I wish it would be fall all year round, that would make me happy on the inside. Partially because I soooo very much do hate, loathe and detest to sweat. Now I sweat even in the cold which is just not fair if you ask me which, unfortunately, no one did. One thing about fall that I love is wearing oversized sweatshirts. Preferably men's XL. And preferably Hanes. (There I go again, another celeb endorsement.  If anyone from “HANES” happens to read this, I’m available for autograph signings and free undies and pjs. Especially pjs, we all know how much I do love and blissfully adore pjs. They go hand in hand with loving and adoring being comfy so, as I’ve mentioned numerous times before, if you come by my house any time of the day or night you’d be likely to find me in pj’s. But it’s ok because I alway try to match the pants with some sort of comfy top. We all know (again, as I’ve mentioned numerous times before, that it’s very important to match.) Unfortunately though, due to some force that is apparently beyond my control I can’t always follow that rule when it comes to my socks. That’s right, I admit it, we are forced to frequently wear mis-matched socks. Socks have always been a bone of contention with my family and me. When I was married to my first future ex hubby we alway had a “sock basket” full of mismatched socks that I just knew would, one day, turn up. Now days Layla enjoys grabbing a random sock from the floor as a gift for anyone who is a visitor in our lovely home. So that does have a major impact on our sock situation. At least she’s no longer bringing folks empty toilet paper rolls. Ahem, not that we had a basket full of empty toilet paper rolls.  Anyway, when I am getting dressed to go “out”  I enjoy wearing a matching scarf (weather permitting of course) and either leggings with boots or mens slouchy sweat pants to match my oversized men’s hoodie. It’s a sweet look I think. My second future ex hubby (who I must admit had mad skills when it came to keeping us all in matched socks) referred to my sweats as “grove wear”. (Because we lived in L’Grove maybe?) I liked it though and I still use it today, as in “Wow, Wal-mart got in a gigantic shipment of grove wear today. I must run on over and buy me some sets in every color.”

  As I’m writing this I feel compelled to mention that I realize it’s December and fall is actually nearly over. No matter though, I love winter too, I’m one of the weird few. I’m already dreading spring because we all know what happens when spring comes, summer always seems to follow. And due to the increase (all equally) in temperature, humidity and my age I will again be sweating. And not in a “grove wear” sort of way.