This week our watercolor drill sergeant made us copy a colorful abstract collage. The point was to recreate each color as accurately as possible. It was really hard!
I did OK on the color matching but got disapproval for using “subpar” paper which created all those streaks. (I didn’t want to waste my expensive paper on what was essentially an exercise.)
The homework was to paint a still life comprised of colorful objects, getting the colors as close as possible. Again, hard.
Here’s my homework. I’m pretty happy with it although the yellow is not right. I think I went too light on the yellow because I knew I was going to paint those flowers over it. (It would’ve been too much work to mask out that whole flower area. )
Here’s what I was looking at—a collection of objects from China and Japan that I happened to have in my house.
In other exciting news: I decided to move all my painting and drawing stuff out of the dining room and into an extra bedroom upstairs. So I guess I have a “studio” now.
Cute bedroom with nice light that nobody ever used
This is not ideal, but it’s better than the dining room. That card table I’m painting on was my parents. I think it was made in like 1960. It has some sort of faux leather covering that smells moldy. I need to get rid of the daybed and get a new, larger table.
I don’t think it’s exaggeration to say that this midterm election is the last chance to save American democracy. We know for certain that our President and his acolytes plan to undermine it.
I hope this doesn’t seem performative, but I want my grandchildren to know which side I was on in 2026, and that I did in fact try to do something to fight back. So here are stacks of letters and postcards I wrote to voters in Ohio, Michigan and Texas, encouraging them to vote in the midterms. I’m going to mail them this week.
Democrats are far from perfect, but if you’re not getting out and voting blue in this midterm, you’re on the wrong side of history.
In the words of Yale historian Dr. Joanne Freeman, “If you are both sidesing this moment, you’ve already chosen a side.”
I’m now embarking on Year 2 of my watercolor “journey” 😉
After two sessions of “loosen up with watercolors,” I signed up for something called “watercolor bootcamp.” I probably should’ve taken this class first, but the description scared me off. It’s a watercolor techniques class with heavy emphasis on color theory, color mixing, etc. We spent a whole three-hour class mixing greys. There is homework. There are in-class critiques of the homework.
The very first homework assignment was to do a monotone (one color) painting of three objects with a clear light source.
I used Payne’s Gray.
For this week, we had to do a “complementary color” painting. So two colors that sit across from each other on a color wheel. (Red/Green; Yellow/Purple; or Blue/Orange)
I used only Rose (Red) and Phthalo Green to paint these hydrangeas.
I didn’t spring for all the expensive professional-grade paints that are on the syllabus. (There’s a syllabus!) I’m using what I have and will buy new stuff as needed. Jury is out on whether I’m going to like this class. It’s a bit intense so far. Bootcamp.
What’s something you’ve done that your past self would be proud of?
I’ve set boundaries with my family of origin. As many know, this is hard to do and causes ongoing feelings of guilt. My younger self had to do this too. I guess my past self might be proud that I still have the strength for it.
In the film, you learn that young Mary (age 17, I believe) left her family home and went to live in the woods. She met another young person there—Lenny—who was also “on the lam.” They were together in the woods for about a week. When they left the woods, Mary went on to determinedly pursue her life as a poet for which she eventually became greatly respected and admired in her lifetime. Towards the end of her life, she wondered what had become of Lenny. It turned out he had returned to the Ohio town (from which they had both run) and made his life there. He had children and grandchildren. He had died the day before she thought of him.
Which celebrity would you love to meet, and what would you talk about?
Nobody is highlighting the absolutely ludicrous, delusional, bloviatingegomaniacism of the President of the United States quite like Jimmy Kimmel. The emperor has no clothes.
Long live Jimmy Kimmel.
Also, like the rest of America, I was sad to see Kimmel’s sidekick (and former parking lot security guard) Guillermo get sent home this week on Dancing with the Stars. He was a joy to watch. And so was his pregnant dance partner Whitney.
I don’t feel qualified to say who is “good,” but I can tell you that one quality I appreciate in a person is the ability to enjoy dessert.
“I don’t like sweets.”
“Sugar is bad.”
“I’ve never even tried hot fudge.”
“Those are just empty calories.”
And the worst one of all:
“No birthday cake for me.”
Diabetics get a pass, but generally these are the types of statements that have me looking over your shoulder for someone else to talk to. Enjoy your marathon training or whatever. Imma go talk to the happy laughing people on the porch eating cake.
It took quite a while, but I finally turned my husband into a true dessert guy. He’s disappointed if we don’t have anything homemade on hand for dessert.
Yesterday, he spotted a 3-ingredient peanut butter cookie recipe in the NYT and then just whipped them up — all by himself. I now feel I have succeeded in life. I will not grow old eating dessert all alone, with another person sitting right there.
The three ingredients are: one egg, one cup peanut butter, and half a cup of sugar.
It only makes 9-10 cookies, but they’re big and pretty fudgy.The recipe says you can flatten or not flatten. He flattened them a bit and baked for 15 minutes. They puffed up just a bit.Verdict: GOOD, especially warm with milk
What’s a country that’s at the top of your bucket list?
I’m not sure if or when I’m ever going to make it back to Europe, but I’d like to see Greece in person before I kick the bucket. I was a history major in college. I want to see the birthplace of Western civilization. Also, I hear the food is amazing.
In the meantime, we’ve been doing some “virtual travel” through a company called Indigare. The trips are offered to us as a free benefit through our bank. At first, I thought that this was just a sad holdover from the pandemic lockdown and the “tours” would be totally lame. But I’ve actually enjoyed these virtual trips, which include a private tour of a major site, followed by live Q & A with scholars and experts. I always like it when I ask a question (in the chat) and they answer it live. It’s done through Zoom.
So far, we’ve done virtual tours of:
Machu Picchu and the lesser-known Inca ruins of Chachabamba with famed explorer Peter Frost
UNESCO’s Alhambra (Spain’s Royal Masterpiece) in Granada
Olympia, Greece: The Birthplace of the Olympic Games
India’s Architectural Masterpieces: the Taj Mahal, Agra Fort and Itimad-ud-Daulah (the Baby Taj)
King Tut at the newly opened Grand Egyptian Museum near the Giza pyramids in Egypt
Next up is “Japan’s most extraordinary art destination” this Thursday at noon.
Aaaaah, no airports, no jet lag, no huge bill$, just a fresh cup of coffee and expert tour guides showing me something really cool.
Soprano Enforcement Operations are difficult and delicate.
I’m no professional singer, but I’m a decent amateur choral singer. I’ve been singing in choirs my whole life. I’ve had voice lessons. I can sing high notes well. I can give a choir director what they want.
Also, I love to sing, as do many other people with far less experience than me. So, what to do when one of them feels very happy and confident singing soprano alongside you – very loudly with no real sense of the pitch? The term caterwauling comes to mind. Here are a few strategies:
Appreciate her enthusiasm! She loves to sing, just like you do.
Never, and I mean NEVER, correct another singer in your amateur church or community choir.
You’ll notice the director trying to tamp down the caterwauler, who may or may not catch on. All you can do is MODEL the correct way to sing something and do exactly what the music director asks.
Sing softer and with the best possible technique. The caterwauler will hopefully realize that she’s screeching like a cornered cat and pipe down on her own.
If you have a good ear and a bad ear (like me), position yourself with the caterwauler near your bad ear and the rest of the choir on your good side. (It’s more important to hear them than her.)
Final tip, and this one is a bit risky. Just prior to important soprano entrances, subtly block the ear near the caterwauler (you can pretend you’re scratching your head or adjusting your glasses). That way when the caterwauler blasts in with the wrong note, she won’t throw you off and you can help right the ship.
Highly recommended film for choir ladies (and gents): The Choral on Netflix, starring Ralph Fiennes. I really loved it. My husband (who is not a choir guy) liked it too.
What’s one thing you know now that would have saved your younger self a lot of pain?
Probably could have saved myself a bunch of pain by not worrying so much about what my parents thought. The guilt trips were (and are) detrimental to my mental health. I’m in my 60s FFS and I still have to brace myself to tell them I’m not going to do certain things they want (like invite a difficult relative to my home).
Now, I’m not saying my parents were anything like the Afghani immigrant parents in Good People—the new bestseller by Patmeena Sabit—but I did find certain elements of that poor girl’s story somewhat relatable. (My father is a second generation immigrant from Italy.)
Warning: spoilers ahead
If you read it, what are your thoughts? Was it an “honor killing” or not?
The most upsetting chapter to me was the medical examiner’s report. The description of what Zorah was wearing when she died was just so…poignant. I stopped and cried at that point in the book.
I guess the part I related to was the whole idea of parents being more concerned about what the community or the neighbors think rather than what is actually going on with their child. Also, siblings getting dragged into each other’s problems. You are not your brother or sister’s keeper. I don’t think that expectation is healthy. I’m not saying siblings shouldn’t care for each other, but when shit hits the fan, the actual adults in the family should deal. Don’t drag your other kids into a big mess that is not of their own making.
If Zorah’s brother did do the awful thing, do you think he was equally as guilty as her father? Or less so, because of his age and likely being pressured by the father?
And goodness, where was the mother in all of this and why was she so weak?
As of yesterday morning around 10am, our new solar panels are ON and doing their thing.
There’s an app that shows us exactly how much energy our panels are producing in real time.
Also, we voted. Our ballots are in the mail. Massachusetts had a record nine ballot questions this time, which is ridiculous. The single most ridiculous question was about repealing our wildly popular recreational marijuana law, which passed in 2016.
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