After today, these last Christmas scenes will depart for another eight months, having done their long, contemplative season. Now we set our faces for the bright, tumultuous Jerusalem of springtime.
I woke up this morning to a beautiful review of Works of Mercy by Tessa Carman in Plough Quarterly --- a lovely gift for this very absolutely last no-going-back day of Christmas.
My new dress has made it to Atlanta.
It's pouring out. I'm not especially dying to walk the dog, or get dressed, or do anything but drink coffee here at the table in the warm kitchen by myself. I'm really not especially dying to drive to Belmont for Mass, but I AM GOING TO DO THAT. Yes I am.
In fact, I had better get a move on. It is occurring to me that today would be a great day for a new, water-resistant pair of hiking boots to turn up, but they haven't yet. I haven't been tracking them and have no idea where they are, which is probably just as well.
Wearing today, in the wet and drear and cold of almost-spring:
Wool& Fiona + Icebreaker long-sleeved tee + old cotton-blend leggings + Boody socks + Xero Tari boots. I might put on a scarf of some description as well, but I hadn't when I took this photo, so here's the core outfit, at any rate.
I'd worn this combination --- at least the tee and the dress --- back in the fall, and had kind of forgotten how much I liked it. This is why it's good to take pictures!
Really enjoying the spring lightness of these colors today, when it is so gloomy. And the mauve-y pink is a good shade for me, freshening up my steadily aging face.
This is an unfiltered but planned and posed photo, taken by my bedroom window in natural, if rainy, light. Periodically I also take truly deliberately unflattering photos of myself, just as a reality check. It's a little masochistic maybe, but I really need to learn to live with what I look like when I'm not trying:
I call this "resting old face," and it's not even the worst of the photos I took the other night. And really --- I don't hate myself here. I'm 58 years old, so what did I think I looked like? But it is a reminder to smile a lot, or at least half-smile in a mysterious Mona Lisa way, because that's like an instant free facelift . . .
Anyway, embrace the face. That's what I say. In a little while I'm going to present this face at Mass, for the Feast of the Presentation. But first I need to brave the elements, for the sake of the poor little dog. I need to present her to the rain, as it were . . .
LATER (after a lovely Mass):
One dopamine hit has come, anyway. Pardon my wrinkly legging-knees here --- these are probably in their last season of day wear. Boots feel great, meanwhile. The extra toe room makes me wonder how I endured the dear old Vasques as long as I did. There's some pressure on my bunion, but not too bad, I don't think. This leather is pretty flexible and should give with wear. They're definitely hiking boots, but not so outdoorsy that I couldn't get away with just wearing them.
This is really a good thing. I've been wearing my Taris hard and will continue to do so, but I don't want to wear them completely out in one year. Saving them some exposure to wet weather will be a good move. Now I can oil the Taris and let them rest a little, at least for today, while I break in these new Birk boots.
PS: As of tonight, my dress is in Charlotte. Tomorrow? Saturday? We'll see how much longer it takes to get here . . .