May Arrives with Lilacs and Hummingbirds, Art Show Reports, Birthdays, and Down Days

May Arrives with Lilacs and Hummingbirds

May is here, and with it, hummingbirds and lilacs, though it still feels like winter—today we barely got up to fifty degrees, and a cold rain fell all day. I’m feeling a little down—I got sick with a stomach flu after my birthday, and the bad weather (along with the news) has increased my overall blues. I have said here before that I am a cautious optimist—but some days it’s harder than others. Still, despite the cold, the first black-headed grosbeak appeared on my back porch (no picture, sorry) and goslings and ducklings have appeared along the lakes and rivers. Also, Woodinville has had cougar sightings! Not in our yard, but nearby.

Me on my 51st birthday with flowers from Glenn

Birthdays and Down Days

For my birthday, we had a little gathering with just Glenn and my little brother Mike and his wife Loree, and we chatted and celebrated. We took some pictures and had gluten-free black forest cake and mostly talked about lighter subjects. The day was relaxing and nice—Glenn and I took advantage of a brief window of sunshine and walked around Woodinville, got a glass of rose at a winery, then home to dinner. But the next day I woke up with the worst stomach flu (including a fever, no one else got sick, so just a weird virus?) I’ve had in years. The next two days, I stayed mostly in bed, feeling down, and a little discouraged about—well, maybe this is a midlife birthday cliché—where I am, what I’ve accomplished (or not). I remember pretty well when my mother turned 51—she was still working 90-hour work weeks, traveling all the time—and when I think about what I thought I’d accomplish by the same age, I just don’t know if I measure up against my own expectations.

Anna’s hummingbird and coral bells

Maybe this is a problem of being chronically ill and disabled—neither of which I’ve had a choice about, of course—or also a problem of being labeled “gifted” at a young age, having high expectations about what you were expected to do with your life. Heck, even Barbie was President. I’d meant to go to med school, and when my health got in the way, I veered to corporate work—and when my health got in the way of that, I veered again, to writing full-time (among other ventures). And writing, though I’ve published six books (eight, if you count non-fiction books), has definitely felt like less than a triumphant path. Maybe it feels like that for everybody, although I know people who experienced a lot of wins early in their careers, so who knows? Sometimes I feel like a lab mouse in a very specific maze I haven’t quite figured out, but I keep getting shocks instead of treats. On the other hand, still alive? So, that’s a win.

Dewi Plass’ “Collecting Sunshine”

Art Gallery Reception Reports – “Spectacle du Petit” at Roq la Rue

I finally felt well enough to leave the house yesterday for the opening reception for “Spectacle du Petit”—a group show of tiny works by many artists I like, including Dewi Plass, Josie Morway, and John Brophy. It was fun, I got to meet a couple of the artists, and I always enjoy the people watching at Roq La Rue’s parties—you’ll inevitably get served “looks” that are very specifically Seattle. If you live around here, you should really catch the show too—a lot of the works are affordable because they’re smaller, which is great because most of us don’t live in huge houses anyway.

I feel lucky as a writer to have wonderful places to see art like Roq La Rue and have a little bit of inspiration, especially during a dreary week. Ghost dogs and red squirrels hugging hummingbirds for everyone!