More peonies, right along the front walk. Every year I have a crisis of faith about all these peonies, but every year they come up anyway.
My husband got home just before 10 last night, having driven through a lot of rain and fog in the mountains. It's very nice to have him back, so that we can leap right into the car and drive back to the mountains for my reading with Marly this afternoon. We really hope somebody comes, but at the very least, we can sign each other's books and have dinner together and catch up. Her whole family, minus one son, are down here right now, but once they've gone home, I'm hoping to get over to Cullowhee again for a couple of days of writer-retreat at her house.
Three years ago, almost exactly, I bought my current car: a 2014 Kia Sorento. I bought it because the 2003 Ford E350 van I had been driving for the previous 13 years was dying. We'd had the transmission rebuilt, but everything else about it was falling apart, to the point that even our mechanic (RIP, David), who could fix anything, and whose philosophy of life was fix, don't buy, shook his head over it and said that basically what we had was a rebuilt transmission in a big metal box that otherwise wasn't going to do much but sit there. This was early February, 2020. Motherland was launching that spring, I was laying plans for readings all around, and my husband and I agreed that I needed a car that ran.
Of course, 2020 as we remember it happened almost the minute I bought the car. No reading tour, no going much of anywhere. But I've never been sorry I had the car, which runs reliably and has bluetooth for playing music from my phone, as well as heated front seats, which are my favorite thing about any car ever. Mind you, I don't drive that much on an ordinary basis. I will get in the car and drive to Texas, but I have to think long and hard about whether or not I'm going to bother to go to the supermarket.
Anyway, I did bother yesterday, because my husband wasn't going to be home for dinner, and I decided I wanted sushi, which can be had at Walmart. Walmart is where you go when you want sushi and also a bag of dog dental-chew treats. I wish it weren't, on principle, but on the level of practical reality, there it is. So I went to Walmart, and when I came out and tried to open the passenger door, to put my bag with my little shopping (sushi + dog treats) on the floor on that side, the handle came off in my hand.
There's no real point to this story, except that the car runs just fine, and I'm probably in for some months, if not years, of oh, wait, [passenger], I'll have to let you in from the inside. My husband is about to discover that this is so. Of course, he'll be driving, so I'll be the one who has to wait to be let in, which in the great scheme of possible crosses that one could shoulder is a pretty tiny one. But it's the kind of thing that comes to define our life as a family, and my children will get some hilarity mileage out of it, I feel sure.
Yesterday was a shorter walking day: 4.2 miles, all told, which wasn't too bad, considering that it rained for most of the day. I'll walk with Dora this morning, hoping to get in 3 before we have to leave, so that she's good and tired out and happier to be in her crate for some hours, before our pure-gold dog-sitter comes to take her for another walk late in the afternoon. My total miles thus far are 68.7, so I am well on track to finish my pilgrimage in time for Easter, especially if I get in some 5- and 6-mile days next week as well. I do love this walking time, which has become a serious time of prayer. I focus much better when I'm moving than when I'm sitting still, and my hope is that this will become a standard practice for me (though what I'd then do for Lent next year I don't know . . .).
The baby children have been having a good time in Ireland this weekend, before flying back to Rome tomorrow. My oldest has been organizing her house---one of the boons of not working full-time is that she finally has time to get her home life sorted out---and working as personal assistant to a neighborhood family whose mother has had sepsis. She --- my daughter, that is --- had begun as their babysitter, mostly to watch their special-needs 2-year-old, but since the mother fell ill has been taking her to doctor's appointments, picking older children up from school, and whatever else they need an able-bodied adult to do. So she's been busy and, as she says, begins to wonder how she ever had time for a full-time job, because life is full-time. The fire son is back in Montana, I think. Him I need to catch up with, but then that's almost always the case.
Wearing for the day, including my afternoon reading with Marly:
Blue and gray, with purple feet. My Maggie dress + old thrifted silk/cashmere cardigan + Snag merino tights + thrifted Birk Rosemeads. It's going to be a good ten degrees colder in the mountains than it is here, so I'll take a heavy coat, but I'm also wearing a bamboo slip under, for an added thermal layer.
Pulled my hair up on one side with a barrette.
It's been a long time since I last wore an actual barrette --- I mostly avoid them, in favor of gentler ways of holding my hair. But sometimes they're just what you want (and when the other thing you'd have reached for is a bobby pin, I really fail to see how this is any worse, in terms of hair breakage). I ran some water-thinned gel through my second-day hair, so it's a bit crunchy at the moment, but I'll scrunch that out before we leave for Sylva. Anyway, currently my hair is too short in front to pull smoothly back into a half-updo, but I can do this when I want to wear it away from my face. I'm thinking about cutting it even shorter next time, so it's good to have some workarounds for things I'd normally do with long hair . . .
Time to gird myself to walk the dog, and to remember to put my box of books in the car. Again, here's hoping anybody shows up for this reading.
PILGRIM WALK: 3.2 miles.
And here I am, all gel-crunched out and ready to go:
