Sun, blue sky, dogwood buds. The current temperature is 35F, but we have a projected high of 70F, which I will take and say thank you.
Another class today, a dermatologist appointment (yearly check, which I had forgotten all about until they called), quick drink or coffee with a friend, husband home tonight as he often isn't on Tuesdays --- so all in all it looks like a good day.
Progeny update this week, which is spring break for my younger set: Viking in Scotland. Artgirl in San Diego. Fire Son . . . firing, I guess, somewhere (he wasn't sure, when we saw him, what his crew's next move was going to be). Texasgirl waiting to hear back about a job, while her husband waits to hear from more law schools.
Wearing today:
*Secondhand Not Perfect Linen Smock dress (S/M) in (I think) Dark Gray-Blue? I don't actually know what this color is called, but that's my consistent guess.
*The same old thrifted Eddie Bauer cotton cardigan
*Secondhand Allbirds tencel-merino leggings
*Secondhand Birkenstock Rosemeads
Also, not seen: bamboo full slip for a little thermal layer while it's chilly, and a little under-layer coverage all day.
As always, I'm loving the subtle play of color and texture.
This cardigan is the right pinky-purple for me --- I can wear very blue purples, periwinkles and violets, or I can wear a soft pinkish purple. I'm not as nuts, looking back at photographs, about my dark plum blazer cardigan. That color seems off for my coloring, and it's telling, maybe, that I have to make myself wear it. I won't do anything hasty, but it might be time to consider reselling it and using the money to replace it with an item I will wear and enjoy more. Not during Lent, however! Still observing my no-buy for clothing! That's been a good discipline, not least because it's been a lot harder than I thought it would be.
I have an essay up today at the Acton Institute, on Flannery O'Connor's Why Do the Heathen Rage? My feelings about this book are mixed, possibly more than I let on in the review. On the one hand, it's electrifying to see hitherto-unpublished prose by Flannery O'Connor, who died four months before I was born, in 1964. I am grateful to Jessica Hooten Wilson, the editor and compiler of this work, for her labor of love. On the other hand, I think Hooten Wilson's editorial commentary, while often good and illuminating, crosses the line into intrusiveness, especially in what I feel are completely unnecessary scenes where the reader is asked to envision Flannery O'Connor doing this or that (a scene where she is supposedly discussing her novel with her mother over morning coffee strains my willing suspension of disbelief to its breaking point). The juxtaposition of O'Connor's writing with Hooten Wilson's also highlights how very much a prose stylist O'Connor was, and how very much a prose stylist Jessica Hooten Wilson is not. At least, the latter really suffers by comparison with the former.
SLIGHTLY LATER: Well, I've been out with the dog and need to get on with the rest of it. The day is warming up gorgeously already, and I'm probably about to lose the leggings, not that anybody on Zoom will know that.