Cloudy and cold out right now, though I think we're supposed to get some sunshine before long. I slept late-ish, and am drinking coffee and trying to wake up and think what to do with the day.
I've heard some shooting this morning, a warmup to New Year's Day, when black-powder shooting is traditional in these parts. In Cherryville, about ten miles away, beginning at midnight on New Year's, the black-powder shooters start marching around the town, singing and shooting --- a tradition that dates to the colonial era and is meant to bring good luck. It's loud enough that we hear it plainly where we are, and Dora cringes in her crate, afraid to go outside and see what the new year might have to offer her. Since there's already been some shooting, she'll probably hesitate to go outside today, and our walk might be a short one.
I didn't make it upstairs yesterday to strip the sheets: today, then. Maybe. But I did finish my Andrew Marvell essay, so that was something, at any rate.
Lately I've backed way off most social media, a trend I hope to continue into the new year. I do spend time scrolling on Instagram, mostly as a mechanism when my brain is tired and I just want to look at pretty things, chiefly clothes and houses. I have a number of inspirational "mood boards" going in my "saved" tab, and I reference those when I want to do something in the house or come up with a new outfit idea. I also keep a file of workouts there, under the label "Old Fit," and run through a few of those most days when I want to heft some weights or find a new way to work my flabby core. But I don't post much (read: ever), other than to forward poems in my stories, and I don't engage much beyond liking things and dropping the occasional comment on a friend's post. I'm not on Facebook much, either --- haven't left any groups, but just have felt disinclined to participate. And I might spend a burst of time on Twitter, reading and dropping some likes, and reposting friends' literary news, but again, beyond that: nah.
I think this is a good thing. It's largely a function of having much to do in my actual life, and of trying not to get bored and go seeking dopamine online. I have actual writing I want to do, and actual tasks around my house that need my attention. As always, I'm not making resolutions, because when I break them I beat myself up --- but this is a trend I'd like to continue.
At any rate, I feel a lot less anxious and more peaceful, the less I actively participate in online life. I'll have to do some promotion that way as my books near their launch dates, so I don't want to disappear completely, but it feels a lot better overall to have my life anchored in the real, material, human world. As this year draws to its conclusion, this is a vision I have for the new one: more real, material, human world.
Not that I won't keep writing here. This is pretty much my daily journal --- it keeps me accountable for getting dressed, because otherwise I so easily might just not, but it's also a good discipline for me to set down the doings of my days, so that I pay attention in the moment and remember later, even when there's nothing all that striking to remember. Every day is striking somehow, even in its mundanity, and to consider writing about it is to heighten my own attention to its little dramas.
It's still Christmas, of course, roughly the halfway mark. An even number --- twelve --- doesn't really have a halfway mark, but anyway, here we are. The tree is lit, though I tend to forget it's there. The tables are still set with Christmas cloths and candles. The Nativity scenes remain, and will remain till Candlemas. But I always wonder: how am I supposed to be feeling about it all? In a long season, a miracle starts to lose its luster in the mind. It doesn't lose that luster objectively --- how could something like the Incarnation (or the Resurrection) ever be anything but the most astounding glory? But for us, stuck here in time, the days dedicated to that miracle inevitably start to tarnish a little. Our mind starts to wander. We read a line about light coming into the world in Advent, and it's the most remarkable thrill. Halfway through Christmas, what we feel is yeah, yeah.
That's how I tend to feel, anyway. I spent all that time dedicating myself to expectation, and the payoff now feels like a can of seltzer water left open too long. All the fizz has evaporated out, and I'm tired of drinking it. Every year. But then, I suppose this is just what it means to be human, and fallen, and trapped in time, separated from the eternity in which all things are continually new. It's frankly kind of a drag, but there it is: the Christian Life. What keeps you going is that you know there's more. We think of feast seasons as respites from all the perseverance, but this, I think, is precisely when you do have to persevere. It's more exhausting in its way than Lent could ever be; Lent is supposed to feel hard. Our mistake is in thinking that Christmas and Easter aren't also hard. And I think the reason they're hard is that we're here, not actually at the heavenly feast, and left to soldier on with our own limited little funds of joy. This is when we feel how limited those funds actually are.
Well, I'm being a buzzkill, maybe, so I think I'll go get my hair wet and put some clothes on.
*Wool& Fiona dress (medium) in Teal: roughly the 50th wear for this dress this year
*Secondhand 90s-vintage cashmere-merino teal tank worn as base layer
*Secondhand Aran Crafts gray hoodie zip-up cardigan
*Secondhand teal-striped bamboo leggings (Razr? is the label?)
*Devolt teal wool socks (not shown)
*Secondhand Birkenstock Melrose boots in Graphite
This outfit is maybe a little matchier than I would normally wear --- my cardigan and boots are pretty much the same color. But it's Saturday, and I can't be bothered. The cardigan is basically part of my pajamas, what I put on first thing every morning before I make coffee, and I feel like keeping on wearing it today.
Hair wetted under the shower attachment, diffused partway dry, and scrunched with a little Treluxe Reflex Serum. It was flat and straight, and now it's sort of not, so that's a win for Day 4 hair. I'll wash it tomorrow morning for Mass and the party we're going to in the evening.
The shooting seems to have stopped, so maybe the dog will consent to a walk.
AFTERNOON UPDATE:
*Short dog walk
*Much laundry: sheets & towels from upstairs, plus a bedspread/comforter whose owner tends to use it as a duvet, with no top sheet (my revenge: said person's bed now has not one but TWO top sheets, one of which is flannel and can act as a blanket, not that it won't end up on the floor anyway)
*Some straightening of the back porch. A while back, we picked up a big shelf/cubby kind of thing off the side of the road, thinking we'd bring it in and put books on it. It's turned out to be too big for any space in our house, so it's been living on the back porch, and now I've turned it into an actual organizer for that space: stuff that was piled up on top of two disgusting old Rubbermaid chests of drawers (which remain, but I'd like to get rid of them) has now been sorted into cubbies. It's not great, but it all looks a lot better, and the person whose stuff it mostly is can still see it.
*Made a grilled-cheese-and-pepper-jelly sandwich, which was delicious. I might have to make more of these for supper tonight.
LATER:
Here are some Saturday-afternoon quiet-house scenes.
First, the porch:
This is actually an After photo --- it was so. much. worse. before.
You can see why I was glad to put up a full-length curtain in the study window looking out on said porch:
The great thing about this whole daybed arrangement is that except for the mattress, which is new, and three pillows bought at Goodwill before Christmas, everything here is something we already had. Bed frame: check. Most of the throw pillows: check. Bedding: check. Green sofa pet cover: check (this has actually been our best use of that item, which just always got wadded up on any sofa). Curtain: check. Well, okay, I did have to buy the tension rod. That's one more new thing. But most of what you see here, with all these colors that please my eye so much, is a reuse of already-owned items.
I am contemplating that at some point, like maybe when the next offspring gets married, it would be good to replace this fold-down bed frame with one of those Ikea daybed frames that make out into a double bed. The Texasgirl has one in her home office (actually her husband's home office), and it seems like a very handy thing. I've slept on it many times, and it's quite comfortable. They're pretty cheap, those frames, and all we'd need is a second mattress. THEN maybe I could ditch the old couch that's in here and put a desk for myself in the other window and call this whole business an actual study for me, as well as a guest room . . .
Here, meanwhile, before I get carried away, is another shot of my kitchen table, which I am enjoying in its Christmas dress.
I can't believe it took me all those years to think of putting that bench there, but there you go. The inner wheels turn slowly, but they do turn. I've been setting my own place there, so that I don't have to sit at the opposite end of the table from my husband when it's just the two of us, and it's very restaurant-booth cozy. Like the poinsettia tablecloth, the "Noel" bell pull hanging by the door (because there's a nail there, that's why) is an item from my childhood. I remember my mother needlepointing it, and at Christmas it always hung . . . somewhere . . . around the house.
That's a little image of the Holy Family between the two beeswax candles.
Now I think I shall go take some laundry out of the dryer, put some more laundry in the dryer, and possibly do another load of laundry. There was a lot upstairs that needed dealing with. I look forward to settling into my far more minimal normal laundry routine soon.