Quentin has gone; he left on an airplane yesterday afternoon. AmeliaJake drove him and he gave me a final fairground run and a last pat on the head at the water bowl as he went out the door.

I had a very nice day today and I hope you did as well.

Last night Shane was thrilled – Quentin walked in the house with Der Bingle. There was an immediate trip to the fairgrounds and this morning, someone’s furry face kept poking someone else’s trying to sleep face. I don’t know if Shane thinks Quentin climbed out of the phone or not, but he’s just enjoying himself immensely.

The rest of us are pretty pleased as well.

Today has been an almost meltdown day. Would an almost China Syndrome be a Chia Syndrome? I think you’re getting the drift of my instability. What kind of a brain comes up with that?

I went through so many self-analysis sessions (They run about 5 to 10 minutes) and so many guilt trips (About two minutes each – all I can take) and so many What would be a good lifestyle? scenarios (Actually, they flash quickly because they seem so daunting). The punctuation in that sentence is weird, I know it, but so is this whole post. Anyway, this is what I am getting at: I went through so many thought sessions that my mind is now mush.

I would say synapses and stress hormones got a workout today. Maybe I am now sporting a stress fractal. Oh, that pun hurt; I’d better dip my toe in that pool, before jumping in. After all, I’m 65 – in trying to be hip, I might break it. Okay, a little more gradual than that.

So, you’ve always been high-strung, getting fired-up about all sorts of things, feisty and opinionated . . . and then having heard all your life about mellowing out and just not caring that much about some things, you just sigh at events and go on . . . and then you stumble on an internet article that states apathy in older people is maybe due to SHRINKING BRAINS.

Yes, I didn’t need this. To top it off, though, I found myself thinking, “Oh, I don’t care.”

Call me Pin Head.

Last night I decided I’d better take off my dress and actually keep it from having something spilled on it – or experience one of my “Oh, I’ll just take a quick look at this paint and just looking won’t get any paint on me” moments. So I put on sleep clothes early; then I slept in them; and, then, (Oh, AmeliaJake, how low you have fallen) I drove Summer to school in hot pink pajama pants with polar bears on them AND a green St. Patrick’s Day tee shirt sporting a leprechaun spitting out a rainbow of gold coins. I did wear real shoes – the ones I paint in.

Maybe I should just call myself Maxine.

A CERTAIN NAME that had a prominent place in the title of my last post is causing discomfort to those who see it, so I am going to move it down the page as requested by showing THAT NAME in picture form.

From this LINK, we have:

This LINK gives us:

Then there is this LINK:

And, finally, this LINK:

As I scanned the headlines on the internet, I saw one that stopped me in my tracks. Actually, I stopped breathing, but I started again or else I would be dead now, to quote Lionel on BBC’s As Time Goes By. But – oh how can I be so calm sitting here? – going on to relay the information, here it is:

Can  Biden soothe Ukraine tensions? Go ahead, click on the link and wonder what is going to come out of that man’s mouth. Do you remember how Horton heard the Who folks? Well, I think fairly soon we will all hear a collective voice from the Ukraine calling out: WE CAN’T STAND THAT MAN.

Yesterday was warm and sunny and Easter; I didn’t see any Easter bonnets because I went up to the LaGrange House. I was wearing a SD ball cap, which I think I forgot up there and I saw people of the sidewalks with them also – one was a Cubs hat – there may be something symbolic about a Cubs hat on Easter, but I’m not sure.

Anyway, Shane took his lunch and a Wubba and I took a couple of foldovers and had some Diet Sam’s in my car already. I also had my Kindle and an extra set of clothes . . . because you never know, dontcha know.

I sat on the south facing porch where Grandma and I had played Old Maid and she had taught me to embroider and where Robert William had played when he was little and where Mother and Sydney would compete to get one of the wicker chairs. I am becoming more comfortable with being there with the past.

And then we came back – Shane and I – and I colored eggs with Summer and Shane found a spot on the sofa two rooms away from where the two egg-coloring decorators were discussing methods and what messages to write on eggs. Der Bingle called and we put him on speaker and set the phone in a glass so it would resonate and he got to hear us discussing and then, for some reason, he hung up.

I have one hard-boiled egg colored light-green. There are 17 uncolored hard-boiled eggs. Somehow I got caught up in watching the Da Vinci Code with Summer and Cameron and by evening was left in the kitchen with 18 eggs. I made up one of the dyes . . . and thought it was boring to do alone. So, come tomorrow, maybe we will use more of the dyes. One year, Summer decided to color the deviled eggs; it was not a good experience for me. I had to close my eyes to eat them.

It’s 10:30 pm and, my gosh, it’s past my bedtime. But maybe I’ll just read a little . . .