Yesterday, I looked for the good in a local production of the musical Chicago starring my son Aaron’s cousin Victoria as Velma Kelly. I found a lot of good AND a foolish, naive character singing “A Little Bit of Good (in Everyone).”
… what I know now — that my son Aaron’s cousin Victoria would be in Spamalot at the Regent Theater in Arlington Massachusetts today ….
… would I have felt any different about being on stage back then?
I often hear people say, “If I knew then what I know now” when they judge and deprecate their past decisions. If knew then what I know now about addressing those regrets about the past, I would have always replied
You were doing the best you could at the time with the knowledge you had then.
For example, if we knew then what we know now about our new dining room table:
— that is, how putting certain placemats on it would cause a weird residue to form on the finish — we would have paid money for the extra insurance protecting any future problems. However, because that insurance did NOT cover damage done by cats, we assumed we wouldn’t need it.
If I knew when I booked my trip to Edinburgh, Scotland that real cats would be appearing on stage at the Regent Theater on Labor Day weekend …
… I might have booked an earlier return date.
If people who have pets knew then what they know now …
… they might have made different purchasing decisions.
I knew then and I know now that I always like to end with thanks to those who help me create these daily blogs and — of course! — to you, for all you know.
When life is confusing, I am often looking for clarity. And to be clear, I often find life confusing.
Is there clarity in the photos I took yesterday?
When I’m asking if my photos have clarity, I’m not wondering about how focused they are. Instead, I’m wondering if my photos communicate clearly what I was trying to capture around me.
For more clarity here and now, I shall clearly tell you that
I am looking forward to reading about Alexander Hamilton, especially when I am recovering from heart surgery in September.
My cat Oscar likes to bite my feet in the morning.
I saw my son Aaron (who has red hair and a beard) perform in his last ever Arlington Children’s Theater production yesterday, which was the musical Anything Goes.
Arlington Children’s Theater, at the end of their summer production, does a special honoring of all the seniors who are leaving.
Aaron is a senior, leaving for the University of Edinburgh in September.
When my boyfriend Michael saw one of the photos I took yesterday, he made a sarcastic comment about Aaron cleaning his room.
I took one photo yesterday with the intent of sharing a particular song from Anything Goes.
Yesterday, when I was a ducky Backstage Assistant for the second performance of the ducky Arlington Children’s Theater (ACT) production of Henry IV, Part 1 (starring my ducky boy, Aaron), one of the ACTors, with the ducky name Racer, showed me these pictures of his ducky collection:
I think it’s about ducky time for a ducky definition of “ducky” from ducky Merriam-Webster.
Simple Definition of ducky
: very pleasing, delightful, or attractive
Full Definition of ducky
duckier duckiest
1 darling, cute <a ducky little tearoom>
2 satisfactory, fine <everything is just ducky>
Examples of ducky in a sentence
<if you don’t want to come, that’s just ducky with me>
First Known Use of ducky
1897
Rhymes with ducky
lucky, mucky, plucky, sucky, yucky
It’s interesting to me that most of the words that rhyme with ducky mean the opposite of ducky.
According to your plucky and lucky blogger, the weather yesterday was neither sucky, yucky, nor mucky. It was ducky.
After I took those luckily ducky photos, Aaron picked out a ducky tux for a prom he’s luckily and pluckily attending next week in ducky Arlington Massachusetts.
The experience was especially ducky because Paschal
was duckily attentive, helpful, and kind. Aaron and I thought it was very ducky that Paschal is graduating law school on the same day as Aaron’s prom, next Friday. Paschal thought it very ducky that Aaron will be lucky enough to be attending a ducky university for four years in non-sucky Edinburgh, Scotland.
One of the most ducky ACTors appearing in that plucky production of Henry IV, Part 1 is Katie, who was one of two ducky Falstaffs.
I was lucky enough to capture Katie pluckily demonstrating her ducky fat suit before last night’s performance. I can’t tell you, for certain, whether everybody in Henry IV, Part 1 was ducky, mucky, sucky, or yucky on stage last night, because I was backstage the entire time. Based on the first night’s performance, though, I assume everybody was quite ducky.
Before I share the rest of all the ducky, mucky, plucky, sucky, and/or yucky photos I took yesterday, here’s a ducky song.
Does anything in today’s post seem especially lucky, mucky, plucky, sucky, yucky, or ducky to you?
Thanks from lucky me to all those who were plucky enough to help me create this ducky post and to you — of course! — for being ducky enough to read it.
This is my boy, Aaron, expressing appreciation for his family:
Aaron’s mother took many pictures of her boy last night as he appeared in a Shakespeare play about a boy and his family, Henry IV, Part 1:
Many members of my boy’s family were there to see my boy perform as the boy prince, Hal.
One member of my boy’s family expressed pride and well wishes for her boy, in the play’s program:
Earlier in the day, somebody at work sent me this, about a boy and his family:
I assume some purr boys and girls with families might now want to sing this song:
Certain boy’s family members like to take photos. Here’s the rest of my family of photos from yesterday:
Since my boy was a little boy, he has spent a lot of time with his talented “roguish, onion-eyed” friend Cameron, who has a lovely family. Cameron has appeared with Aaron in previous posts, including Day 833: Be Kind and Day 1093: What are you eating/What’s eating you. Here’s Cameron, heavily padded as Falstaff, from last night:
Aaron’s blogging family member now wishes to express her gratitude for all those who helped her create this “Boys and Their Families” post and to all the boys and girls reading this, here and now.
How would you — self motivated to read this blog — fill in this self centered blank?
Self ___
Do you have the self control to fill in that self fulfilling blank, before you read the rest of this self possessed post?
If that is not self sufficient, I self consciously include some self referential guessing music.
Self endowed, now, with an answer for self ____?
Yesterday, I had the self confidence to facilitate two self started therapy groups.
The first group had the self awareness to self protect with the topic “Self Care.”
The second group had the self esteem to self select the topic “Self Love.”
Here is my most recent self generated photo:
Doesn’t Oscar look self satisfied?
I now have the self preservation to notice that other self generated photos from yesterday could provide self contained captions for Oscar’s self satisfaction.
However, I don’t think this is a good look for me:
That red I cannot change. Red-eyed I just needs to wait, patiently, until that red eye fades away.
Red eye is helping Red I make some decisions, though, about what to wear:
Red I wonders if those reds are making my red eye less, or more, obvious.
Red I might not care so much about that red eye, especially since well-read I am on vacation. However, you may have read I am giving an important talk today about the therapy groups red-white-and-blue I have created.
Red I will just have red-eyed faith that other things will be more interesting at my talk than my one red eye.
That one red eye noticed lots of reds and eyes, yesterday:
That redhead — whom red-eyed I photographed yesterday — is my favorite (and only) son Aaron, who is the red apple of his mother’s red eye. Yesterday, after the final red-white-blue-and-green performance of Green Day’s American Idiot, somebody said to me, “Aaron looks exactly like you!” I’m sure that red I blushed even redder with surprised happiness (making even more of a match with my red eye).
Here’s something else my red eye read among all those reds and eyes I snapped yesterday. Whole Foods Market in Cambridge seemed not at all red-in-the-face that so many of their green vegetables
… look exactly like green onions.
Red I now needs to use my red eye to prepare for my talk today and also for my and my redhead’s red-eye flight to Scotland, tomorrow.
I wonder if any eyes will focus on my red eye at my talk or during or after that red-eye flight to the Festival Fringe in Edinburgh? Red I will let you know, when ready.
Is red I ready to choose a Red I song for this Red Eye post?
Red-eyed I hopes to have read comments — left here by red, blue, brown, green, or black-eyed you — before my red eye sees all those Boston psychotherapists attending my talk, this afternoon.
Red-white-and-brown eyed gratitude to my green-eyed red-headed son, to all the eyes I saw at Green Day’s American Idiot performance by the Arlington Children’s Theater, to the oh-so-green-and-red Whole Foods Market in Cambridge, and to you — of course! — for casting your eye here, today.
Two nights ago, my son Aaron and I attended a local production of Shakespeare’s tragedy Richard III:
Aaron’s cousin Victoria did a great job acting in that tragedy, as did the young man playing Richard III.
Every tragedy is relative, isn’t it? Do you think the mistake Aaron and I noticed on the tickets is a tragedy?
The people who installed new insulation at our home in March have made several mistakes, including cutting into our TV cable, and destroying some of our shingles.
Is that a tragedy? Or just a hassle?
Some people in my high school class will not be able to attend our 45th reunion, which I am helping to plan. Is that a tragedy, that I won’t get to see them in September at this beautiful location?
Yesterday, I wrote about some difficult times and criticisms I’ve experienced. I’ll tell you what greatly reduced the tragedy of those memories, for me: people’s responses here on WordPress, plus words from my cousin Lani (from an email she sent me):
As you advise, deal with the positive, great things in your life and the hell with insensitive people and difficult situations.
It would be a great tragedy for me if I did not have the support of my readers and my wonderful cousin Lani.
This morning, I am going in to Tufts Medical Center to see Dr. Mark Estes, in order to prevent potential tragedies (like infection) from the recent pacemaker/defibrillator implantation surgery I had. As I wrote to Dr. Estes earlier this morning:
Better safe than sorry.
I don’t want to be tragically late for that early appointment, but I can show you some photos from yesterday, when I
relaxed at my home,
went for a walk with my long-time friend Barbara,
met — over lunch — with my colleague and friend Maxine, to help prevent any possible tragedies when we both present workshops at a group therapy conference in June,
drove my son to the last performance of Richard III,
went food shopping with my boyfriend Michael, and
watched the finale of Mad Men, with Aaron and Michael.
What tragedies, if any, do you see in these images?
Please consider it a compliment that I did my best to make this post coherent, this morning.
Before I go help my son get to school on time this Monday morning (which he very well may consider a tragedy), I need to decide what music to include in this Tragedy post.
It would be a tragedy, to me, if I did not express gratitude to Aaron, Victoria, Brennan Miller (who played Richard III), Shakespeare, Matt Lundeen and the Arlington Children’s Theater, my wonderful WordPress readers, my cousin Lani, Barbara, Maxine, Michael, my high school class, Larry Bird, Magic Johnson, Mad Men, Dr. Estes, and everybody else who has made my life less of a tragedy, in so many ways.
I have less time to write this morning, because I’ll be spending less time than 9 hours at a retreat with other group therapists today.
I’ve had less time for all my usual routines this weekend because of today’s group therapy retreat and the two performances of Arlington Children’s Theater production of Hairspray that I attended yesterday, with two different casts.
I took some time to take some timeless shots of Hairspray yesterday:
(Those photos might make more sense if — at some point — you take more time to look at yesterday’s post.)
Because we had less time for food shopping this weekend, I took timeless supermarket photos on Saturday, not Sunday:
Do you think I should have spent less or more time taking photos yesterday?
I’ll wait no time before showing you two versions of today’s song, “Timeless to Me” from Hairspray:
It took me less time than two shakes of a bunny’s tale to find John Travolta and Christopher Walken singing “Timeless to Me” on YouTube and a little more time to find that UK stage version with Michael Ball and Micky Dolenz (who I spent a lot of time watching on The Monkees, more time ago than I can imagine).
I have less time than a half-hour to get ready for today’s group therapy retreat, so here’s just a little more about “Timeless”:
What’s timeless to me might not be timeless to you,
I hope to spend less time — today and all my tomorrows — worrying about taking up the “right” amount of time and space, and
My bf Michael took a lot less time making these than I would have:
Timeless thanks to Michael (for taking the time to make those three quiches for today’s retreat); to my niece Victoria and my son Aaron for the time they gave to ACT’s Hairspray; to John Travolta, Christopher Walken, Micky Dolenz, and Michael Ball; to all the timeless performers appearing in this post; and more thanks to you for spending more time here, today.
