One thing about being older is that you have so very many snippets of songs, poems, sayings and jingles floating around in your head. Literally decades worth of popular culture is lodged in the ole memory. Half the time, you can’t remember why or from where you know something.
Apparently “April Showers Bring May Flowers” is a saying from England that dates back to at least the 1550s. Imagine. That saying has been kicking around the English-speaking world for over 450 years.
The flowers that bloom in the spring,
tra-la.
OK, just Googled and that’s from The Mikado, which makes sense. I was in that show in high school (embarrassingly, in full yellowface). Gilbert & Sullivan are responsible for a great deal of brain clutter in older people who like musical theater.
Springtime for Hitler and GER-MA-NY
I wish that one from The Producers would leave me, but it just won’t. Must be lodged too deep in the grey matter.
Spring in general has more songs, poems, and sayings than all the other seasons combined. Don’t you think?
What pops into your head when you experience the miracle of spring where you are?
The “Stronger Together: Art for Democracy” opening was last night and it was disappointing. My painting had the worst placement of all. It was at the very end, in a dark area, and up so high you’d have to be like 7 feet tall to look directly at it. It was definitely not the Bucket List experience I was thinking it might be.
I’m 5’8” (and wearing heels) and that’s my painting above my head.
The piece that won was made on a computer with Canva. The person who made it said it was her first time using Canva.
This poster got first place and a $500 prize.
The best part of the event was the lovely centerpiece.
A lot of effort went into creating this exhibit, so I shouldn’t complain.
But hey, it’s my blog and I’ll complain if I want to. 😉
A beautiful spring cupcake with about an inch of delicious buttercream frosting from Magnolia Bakery
It’s dessert. I’m always headed towards dessert. I walk, I swim, I close the rings on my Apple Watch, I eat the salad, I eat the fruit, I don’t have seconds…all so I can have dessert. That’s the point of it all.
Veering into dangerous, personal, none-of-my-business territory here…
I know very well how difficult life is for young people these days. Truly unaffordable for many—especially those with debt. Combined with global warming, gun violence, rising authoritarianism, and a million other things, there are many excellent reasons to not procreate. I get it.
Also, some are not blessed with good enough health and/or a supportive partner in the child bearing years—two excellent reasons to remain childless.
BUT, I will say (and did say to my nephew and his fiancé), life is short, but it can also be looooong. You might live to be 90+ like my parents. That’s 50 years beyond 40! That’s a long damn time to not have children, and therefore grandchildren, and even great grandchildren.
My nephew’s response was that you can’t have “just one baby,” so therefore they aren’t going to have any kids. This rationale is misguided in my opinion. I think only children are wonderful. Many GenXers had just one child and they’re great. Three-person families are fantastic. My book group was comprised of all women with just one awesome daughter (until I changed my mind and had a second child later in life). I love my son beyond words, but if I’d never had him, we’d be a happy family regardless. No sibling rivalry or fights and more disposable income. We probably would’ve taken a friend on vacation with us, so my daughter would’ve always had someone to play with.
And let’s face it, adult siblings are a mixed bag. Some get along. Many do not. And things can get complicated when parents get old and die, if the siblings are not on the same page. In some ways, one supportive, well-adjusted adult child is better than two or more who do not get along.
So yes, you CAN have just one child. And if you choose to remain childless, that’s fine. We love you still. But please do not compare your dog (or cat or goldfish) to our kids and grandkids. It’s really not the same. Like…at all.
I’m struggling with the idea of painting “loose” vs control. The teacher I have now at the community arts center (Sandra) is all about getting all your colors down early. A “color story” she calls it. She doesn’t care if they all bleed into each other. I think I need to paint bigger in her class to get the most out of it. This one is only 5×7 inches. If you paint loose and small with watercolors, there’s a decent chance you just get a mess.
I was planning to watch the White House Correspondents’ Dinner last night. I watched a lot of the pre-game, red carpet stuff on C-SPAN. The reporter kept asking people who they were wearing and it became so awkward that the anchor finally told him to stop. “This is Washington. Nobody has any idea who they’re wearing.”
I was wondering if maybe Trump was going to somehow manage to be charming in his speech. Highly unlikely, but still. And if he was going to be vile and awful to the press (as usual), I wanted to see him embarrass himself until I couldn’t stand it anymore and then go to bed.
After the chaos was unleashed, my first thought was that they’d obviously cancel the event. People in the room (including multiple pregnant women) had plunged to the floor and everyone was shaken. The fact that Trump wanted to carry on (“the show must go on”) seemed to be just another example of his complete disregard for others.
When he then held a press conference at 10:30pm and all the reporters showed up in their formalwear, I felt badly for them. If you had had a night like that, wouldn’t you want to just go home and go to bed? But no…they had to go back to the White House and listen to Dear Leader blather on about his ballroom and lie about all “the love” in the room. (Quiet, Piggy!)
Reporters are people too and I feel badly for them, especially the female ones. Trump treats them like shit. I felt especially bad for the WHCA President & Host Weijia Jiang who tearfully announced that Trump was insisting she reschedule the event within 30 days. (The Commander Commands and the People—especially the Women—Must Obey.)
And then, I just had to go online and see what people were saying. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that the entire country thought the event was staged. That was all I saw in the comments.
I’ve never been prone to conspiracy theories. (Typically, I mentally dismiss people who raise them.) But…maybe.
Could the whole thing have been staged? And if it was, why?
Our government is flailing, people. I grew up in this country and I’ve never felt like this about it before. The on again off again trip to Pakistan is just the latest example. What the hell are they doing? Do they even know??
We have now entered the Twilight Zone. That’s how I feel. Cue the music.
Honestly, the TV show Twilight Zone was a bit before my time. It’s more of a Boomer thing. I never actually watched it. But culturally, it has been referred to so often that I have a sense of it.
For the second time, I participated in a creative arts workshop led by Niela Miller—a 91-year old force of nature who is also a member of my church. The workshop is held monthly on Zoom. We were given a prompt to find a song lyric (1-2 lines) that moved us, write it in a fanciful way, and then illustrate it. I went with one of my favorite songs by Pat Humphries of Emma’s Revolution: Swimming to the Other Side. I once heard Pat say that this song tends to come to people when they need it most.
Chorus: We are living ‘neath the great big dipper We are washed by the very same rain We are swimming in this stream together Some in power and some in pain We can worship this ground we walk on Cherishing the beings that we live beside Loving spirits will live forever We’re all swimming to the other side
I am alone and I am searching Hungering for answers in my time I am balanced at the brink of wisdom I’m impatient to receive a sign I move forward with my senses open Imperfection, it be my crime In humility I will listen We’re all swimming to the other side
Chorus
On this journey through thoughts and feelings Binding intuition, my head, my heart I am gathering the tools together I’m preparing to do my part All of those who have come before me Band together and be my guide Loving lessons that I will follow We’re all swimming to the other side
Chorus
When we get there, we’ll discover All of the gifts we’ve been given to share Have been with us since life’s beginning And we never noticed they were there We can balance at the brink of wisdom Never recognizing that we’ve arrived Loving spirits will live together We’re all swimming to the other side
My painting—Woman in the Teal Bathrobe, Minneapolis 2026—was officially accepted into the Stronger Together: Art for Democracy juried exhibition. The show opens Friday, May 2 at my church and will tour to a few other locations including the Fitchburg Art Museum.
Prizes will be awarded at the opening, but I’m just happy to be included. I’m very eager to see the other paintings. I’m told they got some fantastic entries from all around New England. There are 47 artists in all. Including me. I’m one of the artists! I didn’t have “exhibit a painting in a museum” on my official Bucket List, but maybe I should have. I’m pretty excited.
Thanks again to everyone who gave input on this painting and encouragement on my artwork in general.
And thanks to the unknown photographer who took the viral photo that was my inspiration.
PLEASE NOTE: Senator Susan Collins of Maineand all other Republican Senators except for Lisa Murkowski and Rand Paul voted yesterday to advance a $70 billion plan to fund the Immigration and Customs Enforcement and Border Patrol agencies for the next three years, without any of the guardrails sought by Democrats. And by guardrails, I mean the basic procedures that normal police officers have to follow—like getting a warrant before they break down your door.
My daughter discovered this. Or maybe she saw it on TikTok.
Melt a dark chocolate bar.
I do it by breaking it up and microwaving for 30 second intervals at 50% power.
The secret is to quit microwaving while you still have lumps. Just stir the chocolate until it’s perfectly smooth. You don’t want to burn the chocolate in the microwave.
Prepare a small pan or large plate with a piece of wax paper. Dip sumo orange slices, banana, pineapple, strawberries or other types of fresh fruit in the chocolate and place them on the wax paper. Put the pan in the fridge until the chocolate hardens. It doesn’t take long.
Chocolate-covered fruit can be stored in Tupperware or ziplock bags in the fridge for a few days.
My son has been out of the house for a year now. He moved into his first apartment with friends, this time last year. Because he did a year of “pre-first” grade, he was 19 years old when he graduated high school, 23 when he graduated college, and 24 when he moved out on his own. I thought that was late, but many of his friends were still living at home. (“Saving money” was the usual reason.)
I gave both of my kids a nudge out the door. Not that I wasn’t going to miss them, but I just feel like you can’t fully become an adult, until you live out in the world on your own. To be clear, I did not want my kids to move to a different state. I wanted them nearby, but independent (with roommates their own age).
Being in your twenties is fun, but it’s also hard. A lot gets decided then. Career choices, romantic partnerships, work-life balance, health/fitness habits, etc. Once I left my parents’ house at age 22, I never moved back in. If I had needed to, I could have, but I’m glad I never did. In addition to independence, I think it gives people motivation. You don’t really know what you value and want most in life until you’re paying all your own bills.
I recently helped my son get a primary care doctor and he actually went to see her for a check-up. His dentist’s office bugs him to get his teeth cleaned every six months, so that’s off my list. He filed his state & federal tax returns on his own (motivated entirely by a potential refund – which he got)
I think if they can possibly afford to live on their own, give them the boot (in a nice way).
My son hit the road to the big city on April 1, 2025. First Major Adulting Hurdle: renting, driving, and parking a UHaul in Boston. ✅
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