Sunday morning deskie: coffee, literary magazine, book, friend's manuscript that I'm supposed to be reading, garden-seed-company receipt . . . just the stuff of life here.
How is it already the third Sunday in Lent? How is next week already Laetare Sunday? I should be glad that Lent flies by, but gosh . . . it does fly by. At least, it is this year, in a perceptible way that's maybe a little unsettling.
Here's another shot of my mostly-tidied closet:
I still haven't dealt with that middle hanging shelf, but I do like the color palette here, even if you can't see my two skirts at all. I also like that, aside from two smallish bins of sweaters and a bunch of scarves hanging on the closet door, this is my whole wardrobe. It feels like a lot --- I often feel that I can barely wear what I have. Yet it's truly not that much. This is something to be grateful for. I have zero sense of scarcity here. It's all abundance. Yet it's abundance in a fairly small space and a fairly tight range. I have not a single capsule wardrobe, but a flexible number of overlapping capsules that keep me from getting bored. Again --- this is something to be grateful for. It's good to get up on Sunday morning and give thanks for things great and small. Clothes are small, but I do give thanks for the pleasure they bring.
It is another beautiful day, with a projected high of 72F. The neighbors' tulip tree has shed all its blooms, and now the sun is caught in the new leaves.
The world is full of beauty. It's good to be alive in it.
Today, again, is Sunday, with Mass on the agenda. I also plan, loosely, to
*walk the dog
*finish my essay for Tuesday (a poem on the Annunciation, to run on the feast day)
*help in the yard if yard work is going on
*make Macedonian moussaka for supper, and eat it at the front-porch table, so as not to waste a moment of this perfect weather
In a minute I'm going to get up and dry my hair and get dressed, but while I'm letting it air-dry for a bit, I think I'll sketch my outfit plan for the week.
Some ideas, roughly in order of the days of the week:
*Marine Blue Fiona with purple cotton cardigan. If I wear this tomorrow, it's going to be a bit cooler, so I could opt for gray-blue or navy leggings and my Birk Rosemeads for a shoe.
*Annunciation: floral pinafore over blue Indian gauze tunic --- a total break from purple, to wear Marian colors and imagery for this beautiful feast
*a repeat of Black Heather Audrey with purple linen button shirt
*Grape Wine Smock dress with blue button shirt underneath (or tied over)
*Caffe Mocha Mama dress
*Iris Blue Sierra
*Laetare Sunday: Beetroot Brooklyn with green maxi skirt, beige silk cardigan, Papillio Mary wedges (see, this is why I have to keep that Brooklyn --- she was made for these rose Sundays in the calendar . . . ). Then after church I can just lose the skirt and wedges, step into my Mayaris, and keep going.
The next day I leave for readings in DC and the Virginia Blue Ridge, so I have to think about what I'm going to wear for these various events. Film at eleven.
Wearing today:
*Secondhand Not Perfect Linen Leila dress (M/L) in Chocolate Brown, bought December 2023. Last worn January 14. Wears in 2025: 2
*Very Old Thrifted purple Eddie Bauer cotton cardigan. A decade of wear, roughly
*Secondhand Earth Shoe Mary Janes, bought August 2024, first year of wear.
On our way out the door, so this is a quickie. It's funny how springlike brown can actually feel --- more so if you wear it with pink or blue, but it's Lent, so here we are.
Wishing you all (whoever you are) a lovely Sunday!
AFTERNOON UPDATE:
Back from a lovely Mass, have eaten scrambled eggs, the sun is shining, and whoever was making some shooting-like noise out in the neighborhood has stopped, so Dora has finally quit climbing on me in blind panic. I love those shooting-like noises, yes, I sure do.
This has been a Sunday when I've needed to work, though I'm trying to do it in a non-servile way. I do enjoy my writing work, even when it drains out my whole brain as the giant water bug drains out the whole inside of a frog (see Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, for horrifying details). I enjoy it a lot more than housework, which I am not doing today.
So, I've finished my Substack essay for Tuesday and am now taking a break from writing about Flannery O'Connor for her hundredth birthday, which is also --- Tuesday. Annunciation, a great day to be born, a great day to be Flannery O'Connor, etc. My editor friend wrote me this morning to say he realized he hadn't lined anything up for his magazine's online edition for that day, and could I possibly, for $500, knock out 1500 words by 6 p.m. tomorrow. I guess it says something about my stage of development as a writer and an executive-function-struggler that I said, SURE, I can do that. Challenge accepted. And I'm not even really panicking. I'm almost 400 words in already.
I have changed the shoes pictured above for my Birk Mayaris. I could not get comfortable in the Mary Janes, and my knee started hurting. That's bad news. I don't know why today, unless I had just been gaslighting myself all along that my feet were comfortable . . . it has been a long time since I reached for those shoes, and now I wonder whether all along I've been not enjoying them as much as I had hoped.
So, hm. I don't know what it is with me and Mary Janes. I so want some that I can just wear and wear and wear, but every pair I try is not that pair --- with the exception of my Birk Rosemeads, but they're a clog-Mary-Jane hybrid. Still . . . well, anyway, sandal weather is just about upon us (I am wearing my Birk Mayari sandals now), and I will want to wear those, not closed-toe shoes. I have and love my Papillio Mary wedges, which are kind of Mary Janes and good for dressier occasions. But I may pass these Earth Shoes along as a failed experiment, and maybe keep my eyes open for another pair of Mary-Jane-type Birks, in a more neutral color and leather instead of suede. Bonus if they're closed in the back, not clogs, but I would consider another pair of Rosemeads if the price was right.
But not now. Not today. Not during Lent. Nope nope nope. We are no-buy/wear-what-we-have, all the way. (and again, I really like sandals . . . )
OH ALSO:
Here are some people happy to be reunited with their car.
