The living-room mantel at present, dressed for Advent, the coming of Christmas, and St. Nicholas Day. It's 26F out there right now, nice and brisk, with just a blush of sun on the gable of Jane and Steve's house, seen through the kitchen window from where I'm sitting at the table.
See? Silvery and frosted, but that one splash of real light, with tree-shadows caught in it.
Today's feast day honors St. Ambrose, 4th-century Bishop of Milan, patron of beggars, beekeepers, learning, and of course the city of Milan.
In other news . . .
I did redye our bedspread yesterday --- once my husband isn't sleeping under it, I'll make the bed and take a photo. I used one bottle of Rit "Dark Green" dye, which probably wasn't sufficient if what I wanted was dark, but came out a lovely soft green, a little bluer than a sage green but the same muted, delicate feel to the color. I'd really like to have a room painted in a color like that --- not my bedroom, maybe, but if I had a little office, it would be nice to have the walls and woodwork in a dark, soft, green, in a satin finish for a little light reflectivity. Then books in shelves, a desk for me, a closet to put my Poshmark selling stuff in so that it wouldn't be piled up next to my dresser in my bedroom . . . dream, dream, dream.
Anyway, for now the bedspread looks nice. The husband was pleased. He thought it clever of me to want a new bedspread and to achieve this end without buying one. Granted, I did buy the dye and fixative, but we got a whole new bedspread, exactly the bedspread I wanted, for under $20. I could have found a bedspread in a thrift shop, but the odds of finding something as objectively nice as this cotton matelasse spread were nil --- and then what would I have done with this one? It would have become clutter in my house, or possible landfill-fodder if I'd donated it to a thrift store. So I am feeling smug about it all.
Now the sun is angling through the back door and across the kitchen.
(Those are all clean dishes in the drying rack in the sink)
I feel as though I'm coming down with a cold, but I hope not. It's been a long, long time since I was unwell, and I don't relish the thought of being unwell at this time. Hopefully it's just allergies --- I did forget to take a Zyrtec last night when I went to bed.
Meanwhile, the day holds the usual rounds: walk the dog, finish this last essay of the week, do household tasks. I've got to run some bleach through the washing machine in the aftermath of the dye job, too. I ran it with vinegar last night, because there the vinegar was, right to hand, but that didn't quite do the trick. So I'll spray it out with some bleach cleaner this morning and run it again, to ensure that nothing turns green that should not turn green.
Here, by the way, is that bedspread:
White was nice, but this green is very peaceful and soothing. I slept well under it last night, at any rate. The shawl that AK crocheted for me is on display as a blanket at the foot of the bed. I have been sleeping under it for extra warmth, but I also think it simply looks pretty, juxtaposed with the green spread.
I also like how the subtle matelasse pattern shows up now.
I must say that I enjoyed my outfit yesterday a lot. Not for one minute have I regretted my purchase of that dress, even after wearing it for 30 days straight. The color is life-giving, and there's something about the drape that feels just right for my body --- forgiving, but not obscuring. It's got swing and skim going on, but it's not shapeless. I always feel a little sad when women say that wearing a swing dress like this makes them feel that they're wearing a sack (and even sadder when their husbands make comments like that). That feeling they have makes me wonder what they were wearing before --- jeans? Body-con sheath dresses? Not that those things are bad, but in so many instances the woman in question, who has posted a picture of herself as evidence, looks lovely and graceful in a body-skimming dress . . . and I just wonder what the terms of comparison are, in her own mind.
Suffice it to say that I don't feel that way. I used to wear jeans, but I was increasingly unhappy with how I looked, not to mention the fact that defaulting to jeans meant that I wasn't really thinking about how I dressed. I don't want getting dressed to be all effortful now --- really all that's effortful is that I write about it every day, but that's just my particular compulsion. Meanwhile, I'd try on body-con-type dresses and immediately take them off again. Even when I was thinner, that kind of dress has never done me any favors. I just don't have a con body, and I'd wind up feeling either dumpy or overexposed or both. There's something about the energy of a swing dress, with a little fit through the bust and a nice drape at the hip, with a graceful neckline and a good color, that feels just right to me. Different strokes, obviously, but I do think that more women look good in this kind of clothing than give themselves credit for looking good in it.
And you know, in that dress I walked the dog (multiple times), did my work, dyed a bedspread, lifted some weights and did some exercises on the floor. All I had to do for that was take off my poncho, and I was set. When I finished, I put the poncho back on. Easy-peasy.
Today's agenda also includes our regular Thursday night out. Tonight we'll catch a Vigil Mass for the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception, then make a date night of it afterwards. So I'll either change what I'm wearing --- shed the purple and wear blue for Mary --- or tweak it in that direction. Tomorrow, too, will be a blue day, not a purple one.
Wearing (and I'm just not going to belabor the whole style thing any further right now):
*Wool& Audrey dress (small) in black heather
*Thrifted cashmere sweater (I forget the brand)
*Thrifted J. Jill cashmere scarf
*Snag merino tights in whatever the dark charcoal gray is called
*Xero Tari boots
Audrey didn't get much love last month, so I'm trying to make sure she gets plenty in December. For a sleeveless maxi sundress, she makes a terrific winter dress: heavy merino-tencel blend fabric, versatile dark neutral color. Here she functions as a "skirt" with my sweater, but also as a warm base layer on top.
I bought both this sweater and this scarf in the bougie mountain-town consignment boutique with Marly this past September. I bought the scarf thinking that it would be perfect for travel --- it's very lightweight, almost see-through, so you could throw it on even in hot weather if you needed to cover your shoulders in a church, or ward off the blast of air conditioning in a restaurant. It would make an ideal blanket on the plane, too. It's pashmina-sized, so it works as a shawl, but with a much softer drape than an actual pashmina. Here, today, it's just being a scarf.
I could just keep this outfit on into the evening, changing into a blue scarf for Mass and the pub afterwards, and possibly switching to my graphite-gray Birk Melrose boots for a more tonal look. Or I could wear a different dress. We shall see what feels like the thing to do when the time comes. In the meantime, I'm very warm and comfortable. My hair is wet --- hence the headless photos --- I'm going to let it dry for about an hour before finishing it off with the diffuser to go outside for a walk. The day has warmed up some already --- it's now 38F, heading to a high of 54 --- but I'm going to wait awhile longer before striking out.
But before I turn my attention to other things, here's my periodic blow in support of the aging human face as a normal sight:
I'd just gotten up and made my coffee and was playing Wordle on my phone. At this point I have to take my glasses off to read or do anything small and close, like hand sewing. So this is what I look like at the breakfast table of a morning. I don't ever want to come as a shock to anybody.
This face brought to you by fifty-nine years, a lot of time outdoors, and little attention to sunscreen. Also emotions, both hilarity and anxiety. There it is: reality. We all age. We all age differently, but we don't ever avoid it. We can have things done to our faces, but our body knows better, really. I can be as insecure as the next person, especially when I do catch sight of how I really look, but it's better, I think, just to be frank about stages in life --- and to do the work of looking for their particular beauties.
Making some baked oatmeal which I shall shortly eat while I revisit my half-finished essay of yesterday. Then out in the sunshine with Dora.
The baked oatmeal:
This is in a small sheet pan --- 8x10, maybe. I just poured old-fashioned rolled oats over the parchment paper and flattened them with my hand. I added brown sugar, more or less to taste (actually it was Swerve, but you might prefer real sugar or honey), and a dash of pumpkin-pie spice. A cup of milk with an egg whisked in, poured on and smoothed in, then a sprinkle of chia seeds on top, mostly for interest though they do provide some additional protein and fiber. I put this in my Vortex countertop oven/air fryer on "air fry" for about ten minutes, maybe a little less. Took it out when it was firm and brown.
And that's breakfast, maybe with some kefir, because I always have a lot of that on hand.
LUNCHTIME UPDATE:
Finished and uploaded my last essay for this week, walked the dog relatively briefly, and am now sitting in the chair with her in the sun through the window.
Given the last section of the novel a squint --- it's the end of a chapter, so now for the cold plunge into an entirely new scene. So far it's been day-to-day, from Ash Wednesday to the next day, but I've got to pick up the pace some. I'm envisioning Lent as the time frame, but I'm not going to write forty chapters of one day each. Though I could . . . and that would be an idea . . . but I think it might get tedious.
Though on the other hand, the title could be Forty Days, and that would just be part of what it was about . . .
LATE AFTERNOON UPDATE:
I've written a new scene in the novel --- in which one of my central characters gets to say, "Actually, Ethiopia has been Christian since before the English language."
And I've gotten dressed to go out. Kept on my Audrey dress from the day, but here's what I found to special her up a little:
Enter, again, the thrifted ancient silk-rayon velour big shirt. I keep looking for reasons to wear it and things to wear it with, and here we are. It's a deep midnight blue, so it's good and Marian. It's kind of low-contrast with the black-heather dress, but that's okay.
I can't remember the last time I wore a collared shirt with a brooch at the neck, but you know . . . maybe it's time to revive that practice. It's kind of a vaguely menswear-ish look with a feminine touch, which I like.
My husband gave me this brooch in Cambridge, long ago, after I'd been visiting it for weeks in the window of an antique shop near our daughter's school and finally pointed it out to him. It's pretty, and I really do need to wear it more.