Evening view from the porch swing. Later, when we went out walking, we watched a cloud full of heat lightning flicker over the neighborhood. We were hoping it would rain in the night, but I don't think it did. Still, although the sun's out today, it's somewhat less hot, which is a mercy.
Every time I talk to the Texasgirl, though, as I did for some time yesterday afternoon, I'm reminded that we could have it a lot worse, and don't. The heat there has been steadily killing her chickens, and apparently everyone else's in the neighborhood, too. She says that this isn't necessarily a terrible thing, since the chickens who have succumbed, the Easter Eggers, have been her least favorites. The plan is to reconfigure the chickens' space, their enclosure having been destroyed by the falling tree, in a bigger and better way, with a sunshade --- then to ride out the winter with the remaining four chickens and start to rebuild the flock in the spring (assuming they aren't going law school, which is a whole other thing). She says this time she wants to select for personality and resilience, not fancy eggs. This means Rhode Island Reds, like Big Lynda of sad memory. Anyway, it's hotter there than it is here, and she says she's just hanging on, longing for some other weather --- ANY other weather. Of course that's a dangerous thing to wish for (ANY weather? Really? How about negative forty degrees? How about hurricanes?), but I do know what she means.
Since we went to Mass yesterday at eleven, the whole day felt like Sunday, but in fact today is Sunday, and we're doing it again.
Wearing:
Maggie T, for a third August wear, with my favorite red linen maxi skirt. It's the Feast of St. Monica, and I think of her and what you might call her martyrdom of prayer, for the sake of her son Augustine. So red feels appropriate for that ardent mother's heart, as well as for the end of summer. Xero Jessie sandals on my feet, because after Labor Day I probably won't wear them so much. Rules, schmules, but I want some shift in the season, even if the weather isn't shifting all that much.
I really love the drama of this skirt, bought on Poshmark back in January of this year. It's linen, but I've worn it all year round. These Maggie dresses, with their scoop necks, make perfect "tops" for skirts, and I love the deep teal and the intense red together here.
I even don't hate the penitential rear view. This skirt shape is really what I should be going for more --- and it does confirm my conviction that my next dress needs to have a waist.
Still a long way to go on the aging abs, but on the whole, I always really love the lines this skirt creates with whatever dress underneath.
This is Day 4 hair, still going strong after an intense clarifying wash on Thursday, with a little metal claw clip to hold back the front. I've smoothed on some Reflex Serum to give it a little definition and shine. It still feels clean, in any event, and it's nice not to have to bother with it much when I have to be out the door by 10.
Speaking of which, I had better take the dog out.
LATER:
A lovely Mass, and some nice, brief visiting with students and monks on our way out. Now we're lying around at home. I took off my skirt and sandals, stepped into my Birks, and here I am, in Sunday lounging mode.
It's a little cooler than yesterday, I guess, but still pretty sultry. Clouds are massing over the trees, with a look of rain about them, but who knows? This time of year is all promises, promises. And what comes of them? Often enough, nothing. Everything looks brassy in the heavy sunlight. This could portend a thunderstorm, or it might not.
We'll know what we know when we know it, won't we.
Also, yes, I know that this is a lot of pictures of me, and they're bound to get monotonous. I am trying to track my appearance from various angles as I add more targeted exercise to my walking regimen. My goal really is strength, especially increased upper-body strength, but I would be lying if I said I didn't want to look better, too. And because "better" implies comparison, it's helpful to have a visual record. I always look the same to myself, day to day, but over time, photos will, I hope, say otherwise.