Sunday morning kitchen. Dreary outside, as predicted. Inside, cozy, light, warm, coffee-scented---it's nice to be the only one up, drinking said coffee in the quiet, working on some experimental bob-and-wheel stanzas before the day gets going. Revisiting my notes for my MFA student; I plan to send them back to her tomorrow, and please God may they be helpful to her.
It's hard to believe we're at the end of February. Where has it gone? I ask myself this question all the time, about time, which only ever does one thing: flee away. It's entirely predictable, yet I'm continually surprised by that one thing that it does. Anyway: March is coming, with the spring equinox, with my wedding anniversary, with the feasts of St. Joseph and the Annunciation, all those beautiful days that star the muted Lenten season.
And of course I have to tell myself that Lent will flee away soon enough, because at the moment, even though it's hardly onerous, I already feel as though it's been forever---and it's only been Lent since last Wednesday.
My oldest daughter sent me a photo last night of her and her hometown best friend, sitting on her sofa. The friend works for Freightliner, which has a big plant in Gastonia, and has been sent to Mexico to work at facilities there. She was on her way back home and had a long layover in Dallas, so called my daughter, who went and got her for a visit at her house. Somewhere I have photos of the two of them, aged about seventeen, taking shadow pictures of themselves on the wall of the courthouse on the square . . . and here they are, grownup ladies. My daughter is a married lady of some five years, and her friend is getting married this year (after wasting years on a loser, she has finally met a good guy who's worth her time). See "time" and "flee away," above.
In other news, we received a wedding invitation yesterday addressed to a person with our last name, with a first name which isn't the name of anybody in this house. I had been out walking the dog; my husband had clearly brought in the mail before leaving to meet a friend, and had left this invitation, opened, on the kitchen table, with a note which read, "???" I didn't recognize the names of the people getting married any more than I recognized the name of the person who had been invited, but they had included an RSVP link to their wedding-registry site. I thought: I'll just go there and let them know they've sent an invitation to the wrong address.
Then I saw the name for their particular account: Sword and Song. Aha, I thought. I went to their page. Two people in medieval dress holding swords. Aha, I thought. I messaged my younger son, currently in Athens, and said, "Do you happen to know people named X and Y? People who maybe call you [this name to whom the invitation was addressed]?" Uh . . . yes, he said. In fact, he's going to their wedding next summer. Ah, well, I said. I know that, [NAME], because your invitation is here. Here's the link to RSVP.
Apparently the name to which they had addressed the invitation is his medieval LARP character's name. It all becomes clear . . . although what I really want to know now is whether attire for this wedding is "sword optional," or what. I somehow doubt it's going to be black tie.
Musing: we don't really have a good word for something like art (or mothering, for that matter), to describe its place in our lives and in the larger world. We have the word job, which means what you do to get paid, and we have hobby. What we don't have is a universally understood term for what you do, with a greater sense of purpose than that which you bring, often enough, to whatever you might do for money, for which you are not necessarily remunerated on a scale reflecting either the amount of time you spend doing it or the seriousness with which you do it. It's not a job, as we understand the word job. But it's not a hobby, either. It's the thing that consumes your life and is inextricable from who you are as a person (again, in the way that a job, per se, is not, unless you have an unhealthy work/life balance). If you're an artist, a healthy work/life balance is one in which you're never not working, at least in your mind.
Mind you, sometimes it's useful just to employ the received language. When I talk to my mother, for example, I talk about my jobs --- all the editing, copywriting, etc. --- because to her that means I'm actually doing something with my time. It's a lot easier to speak in those terms, because when I use them I'm not ever forced into some kind of defensive game: I do too 'do something' with my life. I'm not just sitting here staring out the window --- when in fact, I often am just sitting here staring out the window. To me that's not doing nothing, but it gets a little hard to explain, so I just don't.
Thoughts to have on a day of Sabbath rest, when in fact I do plan to spend a lot of time staring out the window, and doing other things that don't look like doing anything at all. I do not plan to do any editing, copywriting, etc.
Wearing today, for Mass and beyond:
This at least is the base outfit. I think my Audrey is going to win the February Dress of the Month award---I don't know that I've worn her more than any other dress this last month (have to go back and count up), but she has certainly lent herself to the changeable weather like a champ. It's great to have a dress that doesn't read as too summery, yet lets you be cool as well as warm. I do love her here with yesterday's blazer cardigan (again, 100% merino, a January Poshmark purchase). I just love maxi dresses, period, and this style manages to be flattering, not overwhelming, to my relatively small, short frame. I always feel adequately covered but not completely veiled in this dress.
My one beef with this style, actually, is how low the scoop neck is. It shows just the tiniest bit of cleavage, which might not bother me too much on the regular (although come on, I don't want men looking at my chest, even now), but feels a little revealing for church.
My go-to solution:
I sort of hate that the scarf obscures the line of the dress with this cardigan, but I do feel better with a little more coverage. And I am glad I sized down in this dress, because otherwise the neckline would have been at my navel. I'd really have loved something just a little scoopier than the Camellia neckline, but not quite this deep. Oh well, can't please all the people all the time. And I like having various shades of purple, none of them matching, but all tonally connected, on this dark charcoal background.
A slightly different scarf arrangement:
Meanwhile, this is a dress that can dress up or down with such ease. I really don't have a favorite dress---whatever dress I happen to be wearing is my favorite. But I appreciate the particular versatility of this one: so easy to grab and wear, so easy to accessorize, so perfect for so many different occasions. On a day like today, when the temperature is going to fluctuate from the high 40s Farenheit to the mid-60s, it's nice to have a long skirt to hide my bare legs, so that I'm both warm enough and cool enough without having to strip layers on and off.
Aaaaaaand it's time to walk the dog before we take off.
UPDATE:
Made a last-minute change before Mass, a thing I don't usually do. I thought about how I was going to see Anna-Kate, who made me this beautiful shawl back in the fall, and how it means a lot to her to see me wear it. I'd exclaimed over how perfect it was for Advent and Lent. I haven't actually worn it since Advent. This morning the weather is just the right measure of chilly-not-cold. SO. . .
I didn't change any of the base layer, just popped my Willow dress over as a tunic. Added this crocheted merino-blend shawl as a top layer. I feel a bit Wise-Woman-ish, like I could turn up at that medieval-LARP wedding and not be out of place. But Anna-Kate will be happy.
LATER:
Keeping my OG outfit in mind for another day. I actually liked it better than what I ended up wearing, but Anna-Kate was very happy that I'd worn her shawl, so it was worth it. And it was the right weight for the weather, which remains surprisingly chilly despite the projected high.
It did also occur to me that this new skirt I've pre-ordered, in Pacific, will be perfect with this shawl. I won't have it during Lent this year, but it'll be up and running for Advent (and really, I could wear this shawl anytime, not just in those seasons . . .). Anyway, that's one more future outfit: planned. I have kept telling myself that I can cancel that order anytime, but really, I'm not going to. I've already matched that skirt to half my closet. I'm already excited about wearing merino tees that are currently going under-worn, because it's a pain to have to wear them with a whole dress sometimes. I have all of Lent and the first few weeks of Eastertide to think about all that, but I'm not going to get cold feet, because this one item is going to pull so many things together and serve me through the seasons, for years, I hope.
Meanwhile, even though it's not that cold out, Dora and I are vegging by the fire, and it's nice. So soon the weather will change for the long haul, and we won't want a fire. It's pleasant to have one now, to chase away the gloom. Going to read Dickens here, and maybe some poems. Not very far yet through Martin Chuzzlewit, although it's a lot of fun. Today seems like a good day to just chug it right now.