Author Archives: Alan Ilagan

On this Labor Day, I’m taking the easy way out with this recap of the previous week, ut coming up very soon we will chronicle my birthday in Boston and the recent sleepover with the Ilagan twins, so fresh content is just a few clicks away. Come back for that in a bit – for now, let’s recap the last week…

It began with my 20th anniversary with the State of New York – meaning I am two-thirds of the way toward the day I am eligible to retire. 

Rolling the yarn from summer into fall. 

Summer still happens for most of September.

Those doggone days of summer.

A lady of iron.

School criminal.

Shirtless male celebrities made a splash here again. 

That naked Lil Nas X album cover for ‘Montero’.

Foggy bottom.

ALB whimsy.

Downtown Albany delights with these imitations of life. 

A glimpse of David Beckham’s naked ass courtesy of Victoria Beckham’s Instagram. The road to David Beckham nude takes another turn…

No wire hangers ever! (Or almost…)

Dazzlers of the Day included Michael Damian, Kim Fields, Mindy Cohn, Nancy McKeon, and Lisa Whelchel.

Since a great deal of the clean-up for the attic loft consisted of shoving errant junk into the storage and closet space of the unseen parts of the attic, some organization and editing remains for me to do. I’ve saved the bulk of it for this fall and winter while enjoying the scant peeks of sun we’ve had this summer. The other night I had a moment to begin sifting through the racks of clothing, and I managed to whittle things down and make the slightest dent in the collection, resulting in this line-up of hangers. 

We’ve only just begun…

(Keen inspectors may find the exception to the rule…)

The title of this post belongs to a section of Washington, DC, and the Foggy Bottom metro stop always tickles me whenever I see it listed anywhere. On this morning, I’m using it to convey the fog that surrounded our pool in these transitory times of summer seeping into fall. No one is sorrier to see summer go than Andy and me, particularly after such a piss-poor summer that had more rain than spring and fall combined. A rather unfair set of circumstances given last year’s pool fiasco where every day without a functional pool soared to 90 and shone with full unfiltered sunlight. This summer hasn’t felt like summer at all, leaving us in sorry shape for making it through another winter. There are fewer memories to see us through, less Vitamin D coursing through our veins.

That said, I’m not going to lament the passing of summer, especially as there’s nothing to be gained for such wallowing. Better to embrace the change about to take place, lean into the impending season and celebrate the harvest. The gardens, in spite of (or perhaps because of) all the rain have performed fairly well. The ferns usually scorch by the end of July and persisted throughout August, while the Chinese dogwood ‘blooms’ lasted for months – a palliative part of sacrificing all the sunshine. And I’ve made a concerted effort to get into the pool at least once a day when the rain has broken, which forced me to take a meditative pause when my regular meditation fell by the wayside. Living may not be getting any easier, but our coping mechanisms are being refined. Life is about editing and improving and dealing with what we have on hand – not being given the perfect set of circumstances from the beginning. On such foggy mornings, the battle to break out of the haze serves as an opportunity to create our own clarity – and one of the lessons of this summer has been how to turn gray days into something brighter. That starts from the inside.

The other morning I was driving through the neighborhood and passed the corner where the kids all wait for their school bus – always with their parents, either standing with them outside or staying in their cars. On this late-summer day, there was a group of kids with a lemonade stand, not one adult or chaperone to be seen. It was a lovely reminder of childhood innocence, though it made me wonder: why is it ok for them to be out on the corner selling lemonade with no adults today, but next week when school starts they all need their parents with them while they wait for the bus?

Do criminals only strike during the school year? 

The power of summer…

Behold the almost-ripe fruit of the dogwood. Soon enough these will turn a bright salmon pink, at which point the army fo squirrels high patrols these yards will zoom up and down the branches of three, devouring all the fruit in sight. I tried them in a cocktail a few year ago, and while the flavor was sweet enough, the texture was coarse and awful – but apparently perfect for the squirrels and the bravest of chipmunks who aren’t afraid of getting that much closer to a sky that might hold a hawk. 

This is the turn of summer, embodied by the dogwood tree, whose next trick will be lighting itself on fire in bright yellow and orange leaves before dropping everything by the end of November.