Seeing co-workers in the office elevator: not a nod of recognition.
Seeing co-workers in a random store: hi bestie!!!
Seeing co-workers in the office elevator: not a nod of recognition.
Seeing co-workers in a random store: hi bestie!!!
The garden has been quietly busy of late, with our cup plants and butterfly bush providing fertile feeding and pollinating ground for the birds and bees and a hummingbird as seen here. Both continue in their long blooming period, allowing for enjoyment by these visitors that will last through the start of winter. The bees and insects will depart first for the season, then the hummingbirds will go – only the finches will keep coming back into the slumber time.
The gardens have been wanting to go to sleep for a while now. I stopped fertilizing and feeding them a few weeks ago. Once the ostrich ferns take that turn to brown, it is senseless to try to keep things going and growing. The only things I keep feeding are the container plants, as they will require the nutrients for as long as we want them to be presentable. Let us not be too quick to overlook the importance of these plants in the fall. Cool nights don’t mean an instant end to the pageantry. Not yet…
In the meantime, the birds and the bees are still humming along…
A rustling and a scuffle, held high above the ground where such things usually take place, drew my attention to the crux of the Eastern white pine and a coral bark Japanese maple tree. A pair of squirrels quarreled or played in the arms of the latter, sending a few maple leaves fluttering to the floor, before they charged into the feathery planes of the pine boughs. What could have caused such a tussle? The curiosity into the lives of squirrels takes me blessedly out of the day, and anything that takes us out of ourselves is a good thing. How many hours have I spent self-fucking the ego? Surely enough for a lifetime.
Let us look to the trees, and beyond to the sky, to figure out ourselves through detachment and distance. It all goes around and comes around, and around and around we go…
Seeking out a spiritual path in life is often the last bastion of hope for those of us searching for meaning in how we live. Starting off on such a journey, or simply making one’s own way and determining which direction to head is what Kaelan Strouse offers with his books, coaching and spiritual retreats. Meditation has become a life-saving practice for me, so a spiritual guide and coach is nothing short of dazzling, hence Kae’s crowning as Dazzler of the Day here. He melds spirituality, sexuality, and self-empowerment into an authentic and genuine reconciliation of our minds and bodies. Check out his website here for a more detailed and fascinating look at his life’s calling, excerpted below:
Surviving another year on this crazy-ass earth is no mean feat, even if most of us still living have done it for as many years as we’ve been here. Saying a great deal of nothing with a maddening cadence of words has become this blog’s stock in trade. On with this post-birthday recap of the week that I turned 49…
A coquette cradle song fit for a fit of crying.
A gratuitous Glen Powell armpit post, for those who admire such scenes.
When fall arrives, a coquette summer departs.
Helianthus wet and wild – little faces of sun that refuse to be drowned.
Bark and structure – the architecture of the garden.
A birthday on the cusp of many things.
The post-birthday sigh of relief.
Dazzlers of the Day included Catherine O’Hara, Tim Walz, and Todd Alsup.
Singer, songwriter, producer and powerhouse performer Todd Alsup is one of those fantastic artists who puts on a show from soup to nuts, absolutely creating and expressing a sensational experience for the audience. Currently bringing the one-two punch of “Freedom: The George Michael Experience” and “Elton Undressed”, Alsup is channeling gay rock icons in splendid fashion, while introducing the world to his own brand of charm, talent and charisma. This marks his first Dazzler of the Day crowning. Check out his website here for further evidence of his brilliance.
I made it through the wilderness… somehow I made it through. Another birthday finished, assuming things go relatively well (at the time of this writing I am still a baby-like 48) it’s a day to take pause, and the only thing blue is the color of these salvia blooms. Let’s have a quiet Sunday morning, and bring that calm into the week.
The body is weary.
The body is worn.
The body is bruised, achy and torn.
This is 49, and it comes after a ferocious summer that took my back out, strained my neck, gave me a second go-round with COVID, and battered me down in numerous other ways unnoticeable to the naked eye. The body betrays us the older we get, even as we struggle to protect it.
After revisiting this date 49 times, one would think I’d have a better grasp of how things should go, of what I’m supposed to be doing. Strangely, with each passing year, I’m discovering that the older I get the less I understand – and there is growing wisdom in that realization and acceptance.
And so I look back with the indulgence that only a birthday can socially sanction (not that I’ve ever denied myself an indulgence on any of the other days). It begins with #48, the uneventful birthday of last year, during the end of a summer that didn’t feel like it would ever end. For #47, it seemed fitting to slip into my birthday suit – a tradition that was part of #46 in a quieter way. During the quiet first year of COVID, #45 stripped things down to basics, harkening to a vintage-tinged past.
Donning a different sort of birthday suit for #44, and the traditional one, and following a couple of summers (and birthdays) off from blogging, things picked up as we skipped to the joyous #41, and the equally-lovely #40. Ten years ago found birthday #39 quietly passing in a New York night. A most basic birthday suit post formed the entry for #38, and that seems as fitting a way to end things on this day. I’m tired.
On the cusp between Leo and Virgo…
On the cusp of the half-century mark…
On the cusp of the cusp of something more…
Today I turn 49 years old. I don’t quite know what to do with that, other than to play this song, and to pray. Yes – I pray. Every night. At every moment of doubt, at every moment of worry. Little prayers, little offerings, little exercises in superstition or faith and what’s the goddamn difference?
Born of fear, born of trauma, born of need and desire and survival – we all come into this world in such similar ways – messy and wet and crying out of lonely desperation, clinging to whatever is immediately around us, grasping at something or someone to take care of us – for protection, for security, for comfort, for love. Some of us never learn how to stop crying. Some of us never learn how to start again.
This body, the only body I have ever known, the only body I will ever know, this shell of my physical existence, breaks down a little more with each passing year. The lithe and limber days of carefree, flexible, quick-to-bounce-back forgiveness calcify and become brittle at the turn of an almost-half-century. This body – it cracks and crinkles now, it whispers and laughs and collapses – it betrays this mind, disconnecting from what I think I can do, what I once could do, what I lost the ability to do… and today of all days I can barely formulate a coherent sentence.
Should I fear this year then? This final year of my forties, death knell to any far-fetched and barely-feasible semblance or pretending of youth? Maybe… maybe. Strangely it’s not fear I feel, nor the rush to get on with it. It’s really just another day, just another year, and the way we mark the days and years is just some silly system of numeric designation, as if 49 means something more than 48 or less than 50. There is nothing at all different today from yesterday – even if nothing is at all the same.
And so I step gingerly back into the river of life, the banks on which I have probably paused more than most – shy and skittish, scared and scarred from that moment of birth, and never quite having been able to get completely over it. I watched more of it go by than I ever took part in, and though it’s not regret I am experiencing, there is a sense of loss, even if I can’t be mad about it. It’s never helpful to be angry at who you used to be. Instead, I offer thanks, even for those days when I didn’t want to be part of it, when I swam to the shore, coughing and spitting out the anxiety, crying out the salty worry, spent and exhausted from trying to swim against the current. All these silly mixed metaphors have me feeling a little muddled, and what I originally wanted to be a contemplative birthday post has turned into something slightly different. The unexpected accident, the messy inconvenience of being human. What I most wanted life to be – something pretty, something perfect – is precisely what a human’s life can never be.
Our coquette summer rides giddily and mightily into its final month on a pink pony, with all the pink flowers and frills and trimmings that this glorious season has promised, and largely delivered. To buoy the impending hints of fall, here’s a fun and frivolous distraction, perhaps less moody than the typical coquette offering, and certainly no less joyful for that. Cue our Midwest Princess Chappell…
In my daydreams and night-dreams, I can dance without the annoying tinge of a bothersome and aging back. I can sing without the heaviness of loss or lamentation. I can ride a pink pony into the summer dawn, bounding along shores of ocean and gliding over edges of sky. Summer is so largely imagined, so grandly envisioned. Summer… so much in my head.
All sparkle of sun and sea, all shine of dew and drops, all summer sweetness and soft sighs. A melancholic meter keeps steady time – the hollow cadence of minutes and hours droning on beneath the welcome heat of the sun, already different than it was in June, already less. And so we dance, and we keep on dancing, and the pink pony prances…
Chosen by Kamala Harris to be her Vice President and running mate, Tim Walz immediately added some bite and vigor to an already enthusiastic ticket. He was an early favorite of Andy’s, thanks to his down-to-earth way of speaking and blunt way of dismissing the likes of that now-wonky Republican Party (he’s credited with coining the ‘weird’ designation of Trump and his cronies, all of whom more than live up to the billing on a daily crazy basis). Today he earns his first Dazzler of the Day, because way back in 1999 as a high school teacher and football coach, he helped form his high school’s first Gay-Straight Alliance, providing support and help for LGBTQ+ students, and a vital illustration of allyship at a time when we hadn’t even heard of the word. If a football coach had ever done that when I was in school, I can’t imagine how different things might have been.
Seeing old things from new vantage points is one of my favorite things about having friends visit. When Missy was here this summer she stayed in our guest bedroom, where we’ve kept the blinds closed to the front yard for privacy, even if we don’t spend much time there. She raised them in the morning, and when I walked in and saw the room in brighter form, it made all the difference. I didn’t realize how much light was being blocked out, even with the white and diffused format of the blinds. Such a simple change, such an unexpected realization. I’ve been keeping them open ever since, and it’s added a lightness to that end of the house that I didn’t fully fathom was missing in all this time.
More than that, I got to look outside into the front yard, and the little bit of landscaping that was there from the time we moved in – starting with this Japanese maple (please do me the courtesy of ignoring the soaker hose that remains unburied). Earlier this spring, I pruned the bejesus out of the maple, cutting out two-inch-thick limbs and opening it up to show off its wonderful branches and gorgeously-mottled bark.
A peaceful little corner, it inspires calm and contemplation – the perfect nook from which to watch summer transform into fall.
Harbinger of fall, and signifier of the end of summer, this Helianthus comes into bloom just as some of us have grown tired of summer’s happy monotony. It makes me sad to say it but I never quite got into the summer spirit of things, try as I might. I don’t remember having a stretch of hot and sunny days where I simply sat out by the pool listening to a summer playlist, idly popping into the kitchen for a BLT or some other glad food fare between swims. Of course I managed some of those moments, but not enough to bake in any lasting memories.
Maybe some summers aren’t meant to be remembered.
This Helianthus, even amid its post-rain wetness and wildly uncultivated form, is a reminder that summer still lingers – it simply burns differently in its last few weeks. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to step out and see if I can’t find a little ore summer magic.
She’s been in more movies than you probably realized, and she shape-shifts so indelibly into each role that it’s a testament to her talent that we don’t see always see her as the star she is. Catherine O’Hara earns her first Dazzler of the Day thanks to a career of perfect performances, including the upcoming reprise of her role in ‘Beetlejuice’. She was Kevin’s mother in ‘Home Alone’ and the magnificently-dramatic Moira in ‘Schitt’s Creek’ – and for all the years in-between she’s inhabited characters that were as dotty as they were endearing (see her down-to-earth turn in ‘Temple Grandin’). Throughout it all, she retains a plucky sense of humor about her business, while honing her craft with elevated skills gained through sheer survival.