Back in September when I first started thinking about clothes and my wardrobe and what I might like to do about my increasing dissatisfaction with the current state of affairs I was wary of the possibility of doing what I thought as too much thinking about the subject. I didn't want to become one of those women, those whom I have judged in the past to be over concerned with appearances or expenditures, who (I assumed) didn't dress to please themselves or those closest to them but rather other women in some vast public fashion show where only the rich and the beautiful (two things I am not) survive and the rules are rigged that way deliberately.

And then I got over myself and remembered that women (and men, now that I think more on it) have been adorning themselves since time immemorial. Berries crushed for the juice to be used on lips or cheeks, henna, kohl, and all manner of oils and salves served our ancient sisters in the same way that anything from Sephora serves us and I don't doubt that as soon as someone figured out a way to get a new dye color by smashing an as-yet unsmashed plant that a new color flax or wool or whatever became all the rage in the village.

Thus rationalizing my newly emerging interest in my own appearance, I pressed on to find an extraordinary trove of resources to inform my thinking. I haven't come to any real conclusions yet about what to change or how to change it, although I am taking ongoing inspiration from, in no particular order:

1) House Art Journal: Regina Doman writes on many subjects, including how she organized her wardrobe to satisfy the requirements of her busy life with "just" 35 thrifted components. Regina's and my needs aren't really similar, but I am excited about the possibility of applying a true, intentional, mindful organization to my closet. Using Mrs. Doman's categories as a springboard, I'm tossing around the idea of using four for myself: dressy/festive, church/professional, outings/casual, and (in a nod to one of the Boy's favorite television shows) Dirty Jobs.

2) Bombshell Beauty: A chatty blog taking the position that enjoying beauty and fashion needn't be the sole province of the slender (or rich). The sensibility is one younger than I might desire for myself and I like that it teaches me that throwing money at the problem doesn't make it go away. Bombshell Beauty mixes things up in a way that I find interesting and informative.

3) Fat Chic pulls no punches when it comes to plus size fashion, beauty and health. With advice for handling retailers, researchers and even family who would treat the curvy crowd as lesser citizens, Diana Rajchel urges women to be more than the culture would have them be. Ms. Rajchel actively strives to build up micro-businesses and artisans, something I find really cool. Say no to cookie cutter dressing!

4) Fussypants: Fussypants is a very popular blogger of whom I have only recently heard. She has contests, she gives away prizes, she's amusing and la la la, but what I found truly astonishing is her Fight the Frump series. Now, I don't love it all (and people who know me well will now precisely the bits I don't care for) but mostly the series is a nice kick in the pants for girls like me who are more inclined to wear something because it's clean than for any other reason. Sure, I'm no longer young and have an alarmingly high-numbered birthday bearing down on me but I've still got some fight in me and I'm going to use it against the Frump.

5) Wardrobe Refashion: Now this, I love. Wardrobe Refashioners take a pledge that for the duration of a pre-determined time frame (three, six or twelve months, I think) they will not purchase off-the-rack clothing but instead provide "new" items to their wardrobes by making from scratch or "re-fashioning" existing garments. Some of the participants are inspirational hardcore sewers whose creations send me into fits of awe, others are working their way through as I would - tentatively and perhaps with a little frustration. Reading their accounts of refashioning has prompted me to look at some of my own wardrobe duds in a new light and I am hatching plans to take the sleeves of one shirt and the bodice of another to create something I might wear out of two things that I categorically won't but which I am too cheap to throw away.

These are the women I've adopted as karmic sisters in my own closet-related battles. Hipsters, goth chicks, religiously devout moms, girls-about town...and me. Despite our outward appearances and the ways in which we lead our lives it seems to me that we are closer under the skin by our attention to what we wear on the outside of it and I have learned much from each of them.

Point 1) I just slid a "peppermint" cake (half red velvet, half white, swirled together) into the oven - the proper three layers now possible through the rummage-sale acquisition of a third (and fourth) nine-inch cake pan - and the kids are watching a rapidly failing VHS* copy of Emmet Otter's Jug Band Christmas**. I ought to be, I don't know, cleaning or something, but instead I'm here while trying to wrap my head around today's marketing list (peanut butter - not the good no preservative kind, it's for cookies - sour cream, graham crackers, frozen spinach, cider and something else that I'm sure to forget.

Point 2) "I need to remember to take a crow bar to church tomorrow," mused Brainiac last night. Now that has got to be one of the funniest things anyone has ever said to me. What on earth?

Point 3) My parents are, as I type this, preparing to attend one of the White House Christmas parties. Now, I'm not what you'd call a fan of the current administration (come to think of it, I can't recall being a fan of any administration but I'm hard to please like that), but I surely would love to take a gander at the gingerbread White House. I saw one being made on Food TV last year and - wow - is that cool. Anyway, this is special for my parents and I'm happy for them. Hope the Secret Service remembers to count the spoons when they leave 'cause my mom has a thing for spoons and who knows what she might hide about her person. Kidding! Kidding! My mom is a very moral and upstanding citizen. Ask anyone. You - with the earpiece - I'm talking to you. Don't touch my mom.

Point 4) I had hoped to make a batch of both jerk sauce and chocolate sauce but have come to realize that my personal sanity and overall well-being hinges closely on waiting until after Christmas. Things like jerk sauce are great winter-time canning projects since they rely much less heavily on warm-season ingredients. And then there's marmalade which can be made with all kind of winter citrus. So if you, like I, have not yet put away the canning kettle there's no real reason to go to the trouble now. Might as well leave it out and make up a batch of something or other when you have a less-than busy moment.

Point 5) My last post shared some of our Advent traditions. What I didn't talk about is one tradition that I've decided to cancel, at least for this year - the new pajamas for Christmas Eve thing. My kids don't need pajamas and buying some anyway would require a shopping trip I don't intend to make. We're a little light on hand-me-down, thrifted and clearance pajamas for warmer weather, though, so maybe I'll revisit this as an, I don't know, Easter tradition or something. Another key part of mothering sanity is, in my opinion, knowing when to let go of something that at first blush seemed unletgoable.
*My parents for years had one of those huge console-type stereos. For most of my childhood the stereo cabinet served as storage for candles, crayons and random household flotsam because the turntable rarely worked, except at Christmas. Yep, our own Christmas miracle. Turns out that my adult household experiences a similar technology-related holiday phenomenon in our VCR, which only works reliably at Christmas to show not only Emmet Otter but also a Finnish production entitled Santa and the Magic Drum which involves a Shaman who wants to be an elf. Those Finns, now they have themselves some Christmas spirit. Shamans! Indeed.

**Did you know there's, like, heated controversy over the DVD offerings of Emmet Otter? It never fails to amaze me the things over which otherwise rational people will argue.

We've had such a delightful couple of weeks around here that I'm fairly tempted to pinch myself. Sure, there's been the usual frustrations, kid shenanigans, sniffles and forgotten trash days, but in the main we've all been all frolicky and festive and I have to say it's rather nice. I'm not super dogmatic on the point of holiday traditions, but I am finding as the children get older that having a very few provide a nice framework on which they can base their own developing sense of observance.

(By the way, don't hold the red eyes above against me. My kids don't really have the eyes of Satan spawn, merely a mom who can never remember from one shot to the next what to do about them.)

We have the little Advent tree I mentioned in a previous post, where every day one kid (they take turns with some minor scuffling which I now regard as part of tradition) chooses an ornament from a little cabinet and places it on the lighted tree. There are teeny ballet shoes and mittens and wreaths and toy soldiers and it's darling. The last ornament is always a star, and this year the Boy suggested that he and his sister hang it together so they could both have the pleasure of marking Christmas Eve, a proposal that made my heart grow three sizes.

And I do an Advent thing with my vast and varied selection of Christmas books, consisting of everything from A Child's Christmas in Wales to Merry Christmas, Rugrats!" (as yet unread, mercifully). Every night the child who did not choose an ornament for the tree chooses a pre-bedtime story. Among my favorites is The Baker's Dozen, which I (not so) discretely encourage for the night of December 6, St. Nicholas' Day. Even if I don't manage to get my way on this point, it'll come up during the month and I know we'll enjoy the book whenever it's turn arises. Some of our collection belonged to my father in his childhood and I feel honored that my own children enjoy these same stories. It an extraordinary privilege to experience that kind of continuity, one that I hope I am able to encourage them to appreciate.

And then there's the cookie baking. Every year I urge each and every Hot Water Bath visitor to make haste to Christmas Baking and this year will prove no exception. As a bonus you can read, in addition to wonderful recipes for all manner of confection (the recipe for gingerbread is hands-down the finest I have ever used), stories of my Baking Disasters that I have submitted over the years. This year I will attempt zimsterne, cinnamon stars, after being put off forever by Sue's description of the dough as "sticky". This year, I say, is finally the year of the zimsterne.
I adore Christmas cookies and love sharing them with friend, acquaintance and stranger alike. I like the fancy pants fussy kind and the homey ones made with marshmallows or chocolate kisses, the crisp and the chewy, the iced and the plain. I love them all and have yet to meet a cookie that I could not embrace as perfect.



So while many of us here in the northeast U.S. await tomorrow's freezing rain and sleet my heart remains warm.

Among the crudest responses one can make in civil discourse is to say, when confronted with dissent, "Oh, but I didn't mean it that way."

Crude, inelegant, and just not all that bright. And yet.

Oh, but I didn't mean it like that. I heard from two pals, one in an e-mail and one in a comment, shortly after making my last post, each expressing an appreciation for Advent in such a way that made me reread my post and think, "Egads! I've left out a few nouns or verbs or perhaps even an entire paragraph somewhere."

I don't know what went wrong only that something did, for I adore Advent in ways large and small and regret falling down so thoroughly on the job of defending the honor of a season I find so pleasing.

Onward.