Friday morning kitchen, quiet and still, with sun at the window. As usual, I'm here by myself, drinking my coffee, playing Wordle, Connections, Letter Boxed, Tiles, and the Friday Mini Crossword, to wake up my brain for the day.
I treasure this little poinsettia tablecloth, though it's acquired all manner of stains that I'll never be able to wash out. My grandmother gave it to my mother for her first married Christmas in 1963 --- "She probably paid a dollar for it," my mother said. I remember it mostly on card tables, set up for children's parties, though maybe it did fit on our breakfast table, which was square and not very large. At any rate, it was one of the things that always came out at Christmastime, so I've tried to use it every Christmas that I've had it, too. I suppose it's lasted so long because its window of use every year is so small --- damask napkins of my grandmother's have mostly fallen apart (even though I used them only at holidays, too), and other old tablecloths have worn out with washing, however gently I've tried to treat them. But this one goes on, and I'm glad. In a quiet house where Christmas feels mostly over, though of course it's not, the poinsettias strike a merry note.
My mother also gave me these Spode "Christmas Tree" mugs. Most of my Christmas dishes are secondhand: Christmas-tree pattered plates from Goodwill, Epiphany plates that we bought from our friend Peter last year. But my mother has given me a few pieces of Spode over the years including these mugs. I dropped and broke one of the Spode bowls yesterday, as I was washing the dishes, which is how these things go. But then I had only six to begin with, not really enough for the number of people eating things out of bowls at Christmas, so I guess my quest between now and next Christmas will be for enough extra bowls to make ten. Just red or green bowls would do it --- five of those, plus my five remaining Spode ones.
But that's a long game I can potentially play. Five "Christmas Tree" bowls will serve our immediate purposes, as a household of two, just fine.
Not much on again today. I have one more essay to write for next week, but that's it. Well: and I have some packages to put in the mail, the kind of task I hate but must do. I did get my Doc Martens shipped to their new owner yesterday. I also moved my Poshmark sales operation out of our bedroom and into the study. I cleaned out the bottom shelves of the cupboard that houses our printer and put all my mailing supplies there; I tucked my laundry basket with all the clothes I'm currently selling into the corner next to the cupboard. So that's less clutter in our bedroom, which my goodness, does feel nice. And the study still looks tidy.
Weather report: it's colder today. Currently the temperature is 31F, and the projected high is only 48. Not freezing, but not balmy, either, just bright and chilly. Layers definitely indicated.
The husband is still asleep, so I don't want to disturb him by rummaging for my clothes just yet. While I wait to get dressed, and drink more coffee, let me say that, unusually for me, I've been putting together a year-end post, to air on the New Year's Eve, with thoughts about many things. I mean, that's not unusual for me. Every post here, pretty much, features thoughts about many things. But the planning-ahead part is unusual. Normally this is all just stream-of-consciousness, mostly while I'm waking up, though I often check in at intervals during the day. Just now, though, I am trying assemble some ideas with which I want to tie off the old year and look forward to the new, along the themes that this blog explores: clothing, obviously, our various levels of attachment and identification with the things we wear, and the ways we sometimes feel guilty about that attachment and identification, as if those were bad things. When I say we, I really mean I, but I also assume that I'm not alone in these inner conflicts. Writing about them is a way of working them out, even when that just means dumping them onto a virtual page and not doing anything more about them --- though as I think about things, I hope to win my way through to some greater clarity and peace.
Funnily enough, and strangely relevantly, the poem I have to write on today is Andrew Marvell's "A Dialogue Between the Soul and the Body." I'm not sure that I'd quite realized before that this is a funny poem. If my most excellent high-school English teacher didn't point out how funny it is . . . well. Probably she did, and I just don't remember. But it is funny. There's the soul, which dreams of being gnostic. There's the body, which just wants to be an epicure. Can this marriage be saved? The poem is inconclusive on this score. But it does make me think about those inner struggles some of us (read: I) engage in, to reconcile our love of material things with our conviction that those things aren't eternal, and maybe distract us from what is. BUT then material reality, as I firmly believe, is sacramental, charged with the grandeur of God, and perhaps the only good answer is that the beauty and pleasure we savor in something material is meant to point us to the larger reality in which the material thing exists*. The point maybe is pretty simple: delight in beauty, but know that the present beauty is only a foretaste. Not a shadow; this isn't Plato's cave. Foretaste seems right. You don't gorge on the appetizer, mistaking it for the whole meal. But you do enjoy it in its proper role. That's the idea, I think.
*I also note that in every scriptural vision of the heavenly kingdom, the people are all a) wearing clothes, and b) wearing beautiful clothes. So there.
Anyway, New Year's Eve will serve up thoughts. But in the meantime, I think I shall now array myself in garments of a material nature, though also --- I hope --- in the armor of God, &c.
Here's a little outfit evolution:
The outfit base:
*Wool& Audrey dress (small) in Black Heather
*Wool& Willow dress (medium) in Wisteria
*Snag merino tights in Silver Lining (originally footed, but when the feet wore out I cut them off)
It's worth noting that these two dresses have been among my most-worn clothes in 2023. I bought Audrey last November, and Willow in February. To date, I've worn Audrey 50 times this year (I think today is actually the 50th wear), and Willow 46 or 47 times, almost as many, though I've had her only 10-ish months. Both have remained in almost pristine condition all this time. Neither has been a challenge dress, so neither one has racked up 30 or 100 consecutive wears, but each has been worn regularly and consistently and often, through all the seasons.
This Willow, in the "regular" length, is short enough to serve plausibly as a tunic. I've always liked the flow of this swingy dress over the soft maxi.
But I can't go outside in my bare feet. So . . .
*Devolt teal wool socks from Norway (not seen)
*Secondhand Birkenstock Melrose boots in Graphite
I have to be sure it's not raining when I wear these boots. I wish they weren't suede, because that limits their usefulness somewhat, but on the other hand, I do wear them pretty often and like how they dress up an outfit.
My husband gave me a tub of shea butter for Christmas, and whenever I wear these thick wool socks (not shown, but they were my one souvenir from Norway last summer, other than photographs and memories), I slather my poor dry feet with the shea butter first, so that they can marinate all day inside my socks.
To finish the outfit, partly because it is chilly out, and partly because it just seems to need finishing:
*Very old pashmina
Especially with a v-neck dress, a scarf in the winter is a must. It's amazing how much warmer I feel when I wear one, even when I'm not all swathed up to my chin. This pashmina is the first one I ever owned --- I can't remember now whether I bought it or someone gave it to me, but anyway, I've had it forever. It had spent some years in the Artgirl's drawer, but I'm delighted now to have it back. I've been wanting to wear the soft green with this tender periwinkle dress, and yes, the combination makes me as happy as I had hoped.
And finally:
*Secondhand J.Jill linen-rayon duster cardigan
One of my goals going into the new year is to aim for more natural fibers, fewer not-natural ones. I want to be pickier about blends. BUT I'm not sorry that I have two cardigans in this particular blend, of exactly the same make and model. I really like them in the summer as a light layer to wear over a dress, for more polish and to ward off air conditioning. They're just right for that. I hadn't actually worn either of them since the summer, but thought that this navy one, with its long slim line, would make a good, if not extremely warm, top layer over my outfit.
I always worry that these dress-over-a-dress outfits look wonky. I have tried swing dresses over each other and concluded that indeed, that was a wonky look, not to be repeated. But a short dress over a long dress seems to work. It's nice and fluid, without being fluttery. The dress underneath gives me an added thermal layer up top, as if I were wearing a base-layer tank. My feet are warm in wool socks; my neck is warm under my scarf, which also adds a thermal layer to the front. My cardigan gives me an additional light layer, and that does make a difference in how warm I am.
I mean, it's not freezing out. It's 39F, currently, and going to rise by ten more degrees by the afternoon. But the sun has gone behind cloud, and the day is looking a bit gloomy, so it'll feel colder than it is. We don't have intense winters, as people have in the north of the world, but it is easy to feel chilled, especially in our drafty houses designed for hot summers. If I were really going to brave cold temperatures, I'd have added another wool layer underneath. As it is, I think I'll be fine, especially with a coat on.
We might not walk as far today as we did yesterday, though I do want to get some miles in before I settle down to work. I want to leave myself enough energy to go upstairs and strip the beds and wash the sheets --- that sounds pathetic, but honestly . . . as active and energetic as I typically am, I find that one consequence of being 59 is that I can see to the end of my energy and start to think about rationing it. The Viking will be back sometime next week, so I want to have clean sheets on his bed. And clean sheets ready for the Fire Son, whenever he turns up again. And just clean sheets on beds, because you never know when company will come, and it's nice not to have to scramble when they do.
I have done more laundry than usual in the last week or so --- not surprisingly, since I've had more people in the house, all using towels and dish cloths and napkins. But we're about to settle down to our normal routine: wash underwear daily by hand as we take it off, wash other clothes sparingly by hand as needed, and one big washload for sheets, towels, and kitchen laundry. One of my other aims, going into the new year, is to reduce our water and energy consumption, and washing is an obvious place to start. We're already mindful of our bathing habits --- the husband showers daily, sometimes more than once, but his showers are quick by design. I use the bathtub, because there it is in the bathroom attached to my bedroom, but I generally bathe only a couple of times a week, spot-cleaning myself and damp-refreshing my hair in between. But reducing the frequency of our washing-machine and dryer use is a thing we can continue to do, as stewards of the physical world we've inherited. We can't single-handedly reduce climate change, but we can be more careful shepherds of things directly consigned to our care. I don't really intend to worry about these things, but I do intend to continue to be mindful of them.
On that note, I had better get myself out into this natural world I love so much, even if it is just my neighborhood, not the back of beyond.
LUNCHTIME UPDATE:
Back from an hour's walk, during which Dora and I covered 2.74 miles. I was hoping to make a full 3 again, but somehow we didn't. We wove in and out of side streets in our own immediate neighborhood, then crossed Main Street and continued through the downtown neighborhood to the north, picking up the far end of the greenway trail where a neighborhood street dead-ended. Then back up to downtown, cutting off the greenway and onto the north end of our own street, up a hill, across Main again, down the hill, then up the hill, and home. Even if it wasn't a full 3 miles, it was a good walk with a lot of up and down action. Dora's now tucked away in her crate for a rest, and I have just eaten leftover chicken pie and some turkey summer sausage from a gift box from my sister-in-law --- most of which we sent home with the progeny, so that we wouldn't have to eat it up. I know that technically Friday in the Octave of Christmas isn't supposed to be a meat Friday, but come on . . . it's the octave of one of the two major solemnities of the liturgical year. The husband is going to grill steaks, and we have leftovers that need to go, preferably not into the garbage can.
I'm also eating some bread pudding with cream, because I worked hard to make that bread pudding, and I'm not about to let it go to waste.
AFTERNOON UPDATE:
*Essay drafted, though I'm letting it sit for a bit before I revise and paste it in at the Sun website, to post late next week
*Temperature dropping steeply outside. Walking this morning, I was warm enough to unzip my coat and would have taken it off, if I had wanted to bother carrying it. Now the air feels raw and snowlike, though I don't think it's supposed to snow. Still, the whole day has taken on that leaden aspect that often signals snow. I took Dora out briefly to practice not barking at the dogs two doors down (yes, this is a training thing), but now we're inside again and glad to be here.
Current view:
I call this one Bored Dog Wonders Where the Party Went.
