bringing back the sun

Good morning, Yule. Let your consorts come out to play.

the elf in the self

I went to Sunday Mass this morning. I wore my Buddhist prayer beads, because I’m syncretic that way. This evening, I holed up with curry and pagan friends for a Yule ritual. Bringing back the sun. I don’t know why I find such peace in religion, but if I did, Kate of Eat the Damn Cake would say it better than I could.

There’s this feeling I get, when I come out of services at the end of the first day of Rosh Hashanah. This sense of emerging from some other place, possibly underground, or underwater, but hidden, in any case, and darker and more secret. It’s so bright outside, and the world expands abruptly, and it’s filled with normal people who are just going about their day. But I have been in this secret other place, where the day was turned sacred and ancient rites were observed, and I am still vibrating where I’ve been rung and wrung out.

…

It’s not about God or anything. It’s about the act of setting things aside for recognition.

There’s holiness in everything, even this monster of an ice storm that will probably strand us indoors (god forbid) tomorrow. Even the tackiness of my glorified elf costume.

Coat: for sale here! Dress: Tibetan craft fair Belt: Battery Street Jeans Tights, Hat, & Shoes: Gifted

something is probably wrong with this picture

We’ve gotten a foot of snow in the past two days, so I’m going to be really hip and anachronistic (and, dare I say it, ironic) and post pictures of myself in a bikini.

  

Copyright Mike Tait 2012.

Merry Christmas, all those out there with a soft spot for curvy redheads in vintage bikinis!

observe the fashionista in her natural habitat

Say what you will about bitter cold and hauling firewood at 2:30 in the morning – rural Vermont winters are, if nothing else, aesthetically magical. And my parents’ house is nothing if not the absolute best place to curl up and wait for Christmas.

I took photos on the front porch today, carefully shielding my laptop against the occasional gust of snow.

We got our Christmas tree three days ago and have yet to bring it in the house.

This sweater belongs to my friend Cassie, who left it behind when she came over recently. I swear I fully plan on returning it. It was just the perfect complement to today’s backdrop.

Every time I go home, my mom bestows hand-me-downs upon me. This time, it was these boots.

Frosted driveway. I love snow without wind: it all settles in the trees.

Porch roof, unlit Christmas lights, and a view of the evergreens across the street. My bedroom window is directly opposite them.

The gold nails were an experiment. I’m not sure how well it went. I do, however, love the blue, so there’s definitely hope for me introducing colors other than red into my wardrobe.

This pose brought to you courtesy of Nadia Aboulhosn.

These are going to be a staple. I can tell.

It’s not a hymn, but here’s my favorite song for today:

exhibit a of getting way too excited about everything

I might dress like I’m sophisticated, but I grew up in a town of 1,800 people, and I’m way too easily impressed by things like wireless internet, hands-free phones, and indoor plumbing. I’m also the kind of person who walks into doorjambs and knocks her glasses off. It’s a contrast my friends and family do not let me live down.

If you’ve ever wondered what I’m like in person, this is a pretty good indication:

The ugliest sweater known to Sartoria. I’m madly in love with it. I’m not even wearing it ironically.

I’d wanted a really hideous sweater for about a year, and my mom got me this one on a business trip over Thanksgiving break. I’ve been waiting for the perfect time to blog it.

Dorky sweaters call for dorky poses.

My mock trial team had an “ugly sweater” party tonight, and I think I won the party. I’ll post the pic of my team as soon as my captain uploads it.

I feel really pretty today, because I am so happy to be wearing this sweater and it shows in my face.

I’m in the holiday spirit from head to toe. I feel like a Scandinavian child.

This time of year is bliss for someone who loves classical music as much as I do. This has been on repeat for the past hour.

Also, happy Hanukkah! My Jewish boyfriend tried to teach me how to say it in Hebrew, and I promptly forgot. I kind of suck at languages that aren’t Latin.

~

UPDATE 12/11: Here’s my mock trial team (the ones who remembered to dress up, anyway) in all our finery!