OK, we’ve reached the last day of 2025. It was certainly not the year I had hoped for when I worked on the 2024 election. Let’s face it, a full year of Trump 2.0 has been devastating. Ain’t no way to sugarcoat that. And we’re only 25% done with the senile tangerine rapist’s second term.
But I’m going to look back on non-political memories of 2025 and post 12 photos (one from each month). I double-checked that these are all photos I haven’t previously posted. No more Ireland pics I promise!
January—We lit a fire in our fireplace and I made a truly top notch s’more.
February—a black and white butterfly in the Key West Nature Conservatory
March—a hauntingly beautiful self-portrait by Vincent Van Gogh at Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts. This one was painted around the time he was hospitalized for severe mental illness.
April—my driveway on April 12. This is the only major problem with Massachusetts…winter lasts forever.
May—a chilly and misty weekend in Portland, Maine with my dear friend Gail who turned 60 about a month before I did. Who knew cruise ships stopped in Portland?
June—For my birthday, my dear friend Susan took me on a “Karen Read” tour of our old hometown (Canton, MA), which was the epicenter of the Karen Read Murder Trial in 2025. Here she is in front of the infamous Waterfall Restaurant, where we had lunch. (IYKYK)
July—I went to a very elegant wedding in the Boston Public Library and my dress matched the library gates. It is hereafter known as “the wrought iron gate dress.” August—my son, husband and me on a Boston Harbor cruise in late August. It was already getting chilly at night be then, but at least that meant I got to wear my new wool sweater from Ireland.September—my granddaughter turned one that month. I love her and her wonderful mommy so much. 💕October—Monthly flower arrangement from BloomsyBox
November—I went to a wonderful concert in Boston’s Symphony Hall with my dear friend Eileen who absolutely HATES to be in photographs. I’ve never seen anyone refuse to smile for a camera like Eileen. We had a great time up there in the second balcony.
December—We had the most wonderful Christmas with this darling girl.
Wishing everyone a Happy New Year’s Eve. Our plan is to go to the movies to see Wicked Part 2. I’m a Wicked fan, but we haven’t seen Part 2 yet due to The Knee. Hopefully this first foray back to the movies will go well.
Waiting for the plow guy to come and do our driveway, I’m trying not to be too antsy. Normally my husband snowblows the driveway, but not this year—the year of the knee. I cannot and will not operate a snowblower. I’m not that much of a feminist.
The word of this winter will have to be patience. That’s the only way we’re gonna get through it.
The healing process for my husband’s knee replacement is ongoing. Sadly, we had to cancel dinner with our son for his 25th birthday tonight, because my husband just isn’t ready for restaurants yet. There’s still a ton of pain, swelling, and stiffness, which apparently is normal at this stage (3 weeks post-op), but he’s never dealt with anything like this, so it’s pretty hard.
I decided to try a recipe I saw on NYT Cooking “most popular recipes of 2025” list—Slow Cooker Garlic Butter Chicken. It looked easy and it was. My husband loved it. He said the flavor was great and it really was. I even made my own croutons, which soaked up the delicious sauce perfectly.
New England is experiencing real “depths of winter” cold right now. (It’s giving late January vibes.) Given the very cold weather and the knee, I think this was a success. And so easy.
Next time I’ll put the croutons in the dish first to absorb as much sauce as possible 😋
Yesterday I went to a concert by the world-renowned Boston Symphony Orchestra in Boston’s historic Symphony Hall.
Boston’s Symphony Hall yesterday afternoon
My friend Eileen and I had wanted to attend this particular concert because the planned guest conductor—a young man we knew from our days working together at the Conservatory—was making his Boston debut.
AFTER we bought our tickets, we were notified that he wouldn’t be conducting due to “ the recurring effects of a shoulder injury.” Instead, 29-year old BSO Assistant Conductor Anna Handler would be making her Symphony Hall debut. OK, well at least we were seeing someone’s debut!
The first piece was “The Imagined Forest” by 31-year old British composer Grace-Evangeline Mason. It was atmospheric and beautiful.
Something about seeing these two young women—the conductor and the composer—take their bows together felt like Progress. I’ve seen plenty of women take their bows as soloists, but not as conductors and composers—the artistic leaders—at the very highest level of classical music.
There was no mention of it being a historic first or anything like that, but you could feel that the audience was 100 percent supportive. Partial standing ovation (unusual for the first piece in a concert). Many cheers.
Brava, ladies. Well done. Respect.
29-year old Anna Handler commanded the podium in a focused, confident way as she stepped in for an ailing guest conductor of one of the world’s finest symphony orchestras
This is the pic that came up today when I searched the ginormous folder on my computer for a “door.”
There was no geographic info in the file name or photo data. All I know is that it was taken with my old Canon PowerShot camera in June 2011 and that the two kids on the balcony are mine.
I had no recollection of this moment, but Google Lens figured out the location (amazing). It’s downtown Winchester, Massachusetts (my husband’s hometown). My father-in-law was alive and still living there at the time, so it makes sense.
It’s an area now called “Winchester Terrace.” AI found this photo on Apartments.com that shows the exact spot:
At the top of the staircase on the right is the spot I posed my kids in 2011.
This discovery sparked a memory of my very dear father-in-law—“Nonno” to my kids.
He was most the wonderful man who enjoyed life’s small moments like no other. Martini time, a beautiful operatic aria, an excellent meal, a grandchild’s kiss (he called it a “buzz”), a friendly joke with a stranger (especially waitresses!), and random bits of foreign languages sprinkled into any conversation. He always made me feel like the most amazing, interesting, gorgeous woman who ever lived. A true charmer. He lived well into his 90s.
A little over a year ago, I saw the Northern Lights for the first time on the way to choir practice and wrote a post about it.
Last night at about 9pm, thanks to Facebook, I was alerted that the aurora borealis was again visible in the skies above our town. Not as bright as last year, but still very cool.
Photo taken from my back porch facing northThe Northern Lights do not look as bright to the naked eye as they do in photos, but I could distinctly see both the pink and the green with my own eyes.
I texted my kids and my parents to look north and my daughter saw some beautiful pinks where she lives in southern central Massachusetts:
My father saw them for the first time in his 91 years and he was a pilot who has been to Alaska several times and also to Iceland. Here was his photo from two towns over:
Wild turkeys in my neighborhood on Halloween day, 2025
At this time of year it always strikes me as funny that flocks of wild turkeys casually walk through our suburban neighborhoods, not at all concerned with the humans who are right this minute planning their Thanksgiving dinners.
We have a woman in our church choir with dementia or Alzheimer’s (not sure of her official diagnosis). She has a lovely singing voice. In fact, she was a music teacher at one point.
But Susan (not her real name) is getting worse. She has an extremely difficult time keeping track of her sheet music and the folder it lives in. Last Sunday, as we began to warm-up before the congregation arrived, she turned to me and said, “I have no idea why I’m standing here, but I was a music teacher once.” She gets upset when she doesn’t know what’s going on. She’s never caused a scene or melted down, but her anxiety is a real issue. She needs constant reassurance. And she can get snippy with people who are trying to help her.
Her partner Jim is a nice man who has already lost both of his adult daughters to diseases. He’s doing his best, but this has got to be really tough on him.
The plan now is to make a formal schedule whereby her fellow sopranos will take turns supporting her each week, so that nobody gets stuck doing it all the time. It’s going to mean showing up early, sitting with her, making sure she has music, reassuring her throughout the rehearsal and performance, and then making sure she gets back to Jim.
To be perfectly honest, I’m not looking forward to it. I never knew this woman before she had dementia. She’s not a family member of mine. I have no special fondness for her.
But clearly, I need to step up. That’s the whole point of church, especially Unitarian Universalist churches, where belief in God is optional. “Community” is the goal. I know that if I get dementia (or cancer or anything else), these people will support me. They are GOOD PEOPLE. Most are better than me. (I’m not just saying that. They really are.)
Here’s something Susan said to me in one of her sweeter moments: “I have a trick for when I don’t know what’s going on. I smile more.”
I’m going to try to remember that. Smile more. If she’s annoying me with her inability to follow along and constant questions, I’ll smile at her. She has a lovely smile. And so do I.
Selfie on the rail trail. I was trying to get a pic for a self-portrait for painting class.Our rail trail yesterday
Smiling in annoying or uncomfortable situations might not help. But it can’t hurt. I think this might be a uniquely American thing.
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