all that's past is prologue...

I know I've been talking a lot about art events lately. But to be honest, seeing shows and exhibits is one the only ways I am coping with things right now, and I think it might help you as well. It has the added bonus of supporting local, grassroots economic efforts. It builds community; I can promise you that you will feel better when in a room with other people, experiencing art together. Felly recession-y? Many of the things I am recommending are free, or low cost. Seriously, give it a try! I'm presenting a short riff on the importance of preservation at Zeitgeist's new works this week. April 15 and 17  at Nautilus's space in Lowertown, at 7:30. A whole new take on the subject. Want a side of absurdism with your anti-facism? Ionesco's Rhinoceros , by Pangea World Theater , plays at the Southern through this weekend. Similar topic, different take. I've written before about my friend Dan Smith's show of his mother's work, which opens at the former Fi...

When I had an opportunity to get a pair of free tickets to Mean Girls last night, I hesitated. I was tired (so tired), and behind on work. But Patrick said "Of course you should go, it's your word for the year telling you something," and of course he was right. Beatrix was thrilled to go though they are unlikely to resurrect the Touring Broadway Awards to honor this production, it was tremendously fun to go and I had a wonderful night out with my girl. On the far other end of the ideological spectrum, last week we attended Rhinoceros by Pangea at the Southern, which runs through April 19. It's a long play, and Ionesco is a big lift for a lot of folks. But if you can make time in your schedule to see this show, I would do it — the design, direction, and the hard-working cast are all worth it. It's a show that is sadly very appropriate right now. Beatrix will beat my theater attendance record for the week by also seeing Alice By Heart at Stillwater HS tomorrow, an...

Democracy dies in darkness, and it's more important right now than ever in my lifetime to hold up the light. Lucy Kreisler Smith was a force. Born Jewish in Krakow in 1933, she had just started school when the Nazis invaded. Her childhood was spent staying one step ahead of death — escaping the ghetto, assuming a Catholic identity, constantly on the move and in hiding, amazingly both she and her mother surviving. Post-war she fled the Communists, moved to Paris with no money, and eventually married an American man. One baby and a divorce later, she settled in Saint Paul as a single mother and immigrant, continuing her life as a painter, writer, teacher, and social justice activist. Lucy passed on in July, 2022. Her art is a testament to how we all survive and move on. Few her paintings directly address the Holocaust. Instead, they consider everyday life, but a life inherently changed by emerging from the darkness — yet with that undercurrent ever-present. The art is gritty, and yet...

Like a true mama bear, I have been very focused on the short shrift my 17-year-old has gotten in her lifetime. Born in the 2008 recession, she saw a few years of hope before the first T presidency, then covid (and the ensuing reactions which, though prudent and warranted, made us all feel isolated and like we were going to die any minute), and getting covid, and distance learning, and George Floyd's murder, and the uprisings, and now the second T debacle and chaos.  And she's had a lot of changes at school, as well, with leadership changes and counselors changing and her class in particular missing out on any number of school traditions. And the upcoming college admissions uncertainty, including "the cliff" and the loss of international students and financial aid/Department of Education chaos. It's no wonder I'm kind of salty about it. But in a school meeting yesterday ("Looking ahead to senior year" — gulp!), in conversation, I began to realize the ...

A post this morning gave me that "tourist in your own town" vibe, because it asked about your perfect dining day where you live. If I cheat a little, I can easily do this for Duluth, because we do it all the time: Breakfast is Tobie's take-out on the way. Lunch at Sir Ben's overlooking the lake. An afternoon beer at Ursa Minor, then a coffee at Dovetail, and a cider and some soft serve at Wild State. Happy hour at Vikre. Dinner at Va Bene. My home city of Saint Paul took more thought, but I think I am going with: Breakfast at High Hat. Lunch at Afro Deli. A day drink at either Lake Monster or Wandering Leaf. A coffee at Catzen. Happy hour at Bar Cart. Dinner at Emerald Lounge. Dessert at Cafe Latte (I'm a traditionalist). --- What about you? Take me on your perfect dining day.

Two posts in one day brought to you by the welcome occasion of welcoming a new dog to our household! Meet Ernest! Ernie was lovingly fostered by our friends the Moes. They are great people, and you might have even seen Ernest (then called Duckie) on Bluesky doing fundraising cameos for Depresh Mode and Sleeping with Celebrities (and it's not too late to support them!) Ernie comes from Alabama, and has some recovery to do from double hernia surgery and heartworm.  But he's had a relatively chill introduction to the other animals, and I think he's going to fit in just fine. We're all sitting around right now watching a very strange rock opera with Sadie Sink and having some weird drink concoctions to clean out the liquor cabinet. Somehow, I think someone approves.

Internet challenges can be my downfall. I always sign up thinking I am going to revamp my Linked In page/revitalize my wardrobe/learn Portuguese fluently while losing 30 pounds, all in a month. I get a good start but never really make it. Last year I was fairly successful in an Instagram #52weeksofhome photo challenge, but I have fallen off this year. But the Apartment Therapy "Cure" is always my downfall, where I start off well and fall down fast. The Apartment Therapy emails always remind me of this. BUT in a recent email from them I did get a great tip: We have A LOT of books, and they are double-shelved because we don't have enough room. That means that we can never see the ones in the back. And Patrick eats a LOT of eggs, which has been key to him losing weight and keeping his diabetes under control. So when the email came with the tip to use the empty egg carton to slightly raise your back row of books so you can see them, we were intrigued. As you can see, it's...

1) My husband describes — far better than I can — what I feel after visiting a bunch of schools. Right now I think we have shafted this particular micro-generation of kids in more ways than I can describe and if Beatrix told me she just wanted to stay in her room for the next 5-10 years I might not even argue. 2) After an evening where we went to a couple of neighborhood places (after flying back earlier today), I feel like I am more committed than ever to the people that care about my community and work to make it better. 3) Despite a lot of deep thoughts right now we had a lot of fun on this trip and I am glad we went.

Yesterday we hit Bard in the morning, which was a little bit of a disappointment. So many people had told us it would be perfect for Beatrix, and pulling on to the campus felt like arriving at summer camp. But the vibe was just not right. BUT then we got to arrive at the AirBnB we chose in Hadley, a 1797 home at the bend of the Connecticut River, and have this view, along with the nicest homeowner imaginable. We got to visit Emily Dickinson's house. We got a private tour of the magical Double Edge Farm and had dinner at Hop and Olive with my college advisor, Carroll Durand, who is one of the most incredible women on the planet. Today we visited Amherst and really liked it and had good conversations with people there, and saw some bones. They have dropped Lord Jeff as their mascot and picked up the Mammoths. We arrived in Salem and checked in to our lovely hotel, wandered around to shop and see Hocus Pocus sites, had cocktails, and had a fantastic ghost tour with Black Cat Tours . ...

It was soooo cold and rainy yesterday, but we made it through. Rain did not make Brandeis look any better (it's off Beatrix's list now), and I'm afraid the pouring rain didn't help Tufts' chances much either. But we warmed up at Grendel's where we met my friend Carolyn. But the sun came out today and we made it to Connecticut College, which she liked, and then zipped around New Haven to relive Patrick's old haunts, play tourist at Yale, and pick up a sweatshirt so B's friend H can manifest it as his school of choice. We're spending the night in Poughkeepsie so we can better understand the relationship of Vassar to the town — it definitely makes Northfield look cosmopolitan. Tomorrow Bard, and then on to the Happy Valley.

Tomorrow we start the big spring break college visit gauntlet, but today we played Boston tourist (after our flight was delayed and we did not get into the hotel until 2am). The city is both just as I remembered and astonishingly different. Luckily, some things just stay the same: We did a Greta Gerwig Little Women tour, checking off a few of the sites from the movie filming: And a few of Patrick's top places too — yeah, Thoreau was kind of a white mansplaining spoiled brat who would never have made it without Emerson's help, but the Transcendentalists were pretty cool. Then after a meh lunch in Waltham we headed into central Boston to check out the Good Will Hunting bench and the ballroom at the Fairmount Copley where the ball was filmed in Little Women (and scratch the hotel dog): From there we did some thrifting at Garment District and in Davis Square, as well as hitting the Davis Square H-Mart. We meet up with my old friend L for dinner at the Rosebud, which wins huge awar...