Inspired by Miranda Hart’s turn as Dazzler of the Day and the utterly charming performance he gives on her self-titled show, Tom Ellis earns his own Dazzler of the Day thanks to that charming chef, and a more devilish turn on ‘Lucifer’. He also re-ignites the ‘shirtless male celebrity’ side of this site, setting the stage for a sexy New Year.
Andy likes to keep the Christmas tree up until at least ‘Little Christmas’ which I believe is January 6, and at this dark time of the year I’m all for it. Our other little trees will remain up until the end of January. It extends the warm glow of the holidays, and makes the front end of winter go by in cheerier fashion. I also feel like we didn’t get as much out of Christmas as we have in the past – maybe it was all the worry about COVID and dealing with family issues, maybe it was the socially-distant state of the world, and maybe (most likely) it was my inability to simply sit down in front of the Christmas tree and take it all in – slowly and mindfully and meaningfully. The only time I got to do that was when Andy and I opened our gifts on Christmas Eve – after it was done we simply sat beside the tree, talking and appreciating the moment and our time together.
In a way, extending the season is a way to pause and take it all in, which may be easier to do now that the big day has come and gone. The resonant part of what Christmas means remains. Without the stress and bombast and pressure of all the shopping and general insanity of the weeks and days leading up to it, we have reached the space of quiet and contemplation to truly enjoy a Christmas moment.
Our Christmas tree was lit by me and decorated by Andy. It has ornaments that are decades old, as well as newer ones that have only been with us for a couple of years. As we add more, it only gets more beautiful each year – a rare moment when accumulating objects increases the visual appeal of something.
There’s also something magical about the Christmas tree that makes every picture of an ornament look far prettier than they have any right to be. The lighting and the evergreen needles and the idea of being nestled in a cozy bough lends further enchantment.
We knew from the moment she held her own with Meryl Streep as Miranda Priestley in ‘The Devil Wears Prada‘ that Emily Blunt was a star. From there, she’s been stunning and seducing audiences with an impressive curriculum vitae that runs the gamut from critical indie darlings to smash sensations – see ‘Sunshine Cleaning’, ‘Jungle Cruise’, ‘Mary Poppins Returns‘, ‘A Quiet Place’ (1 and 2), ‘Into the Woods‘, ‘The Adjustment Bureau’, and ‘The Girl on the Train’. All of those films were made better, if not spectacular, thanks to Blunt’s masterful portrayals. Today she is crowned Dazzler of the Day, if only for surviving the devil in Prada.
PS – Bonus points for her husband.
The long journey to spring has begun, and this teaser trailer for the new ‘Downton Abbey: A New Era’ movie sets the splendiferous tone for a lighter and airier and South-of-Francier atmosphere. Not sure how the stiff upper lip I’ve come to love of the Abbey will fare when transported to a new locale, but I’m keeping an open mind.
The release date of March 18, 2022 is also a few days before spring, indicating the perfect kick-off to the next season, and the return of the sun. It’s been a very long time since we’ve allowed ourselves to look forward to anything, and even this is done with a certain trepidation and hesitation, with the now-customary proviso that all is subject to change. Still, the heart longs, the heart hopes, and the heart waits in joyful anticipation…
My friend Marline introduced me to Miranda Hart when we were discussing the concept of a savory muffin at work one morning. I’d known her work from the movie ‘Spy’ where she was the funniest part of that Melissa McCarthy-helmed comedy (a Herculean feat unto itself), and then I later realized she could be as heart-tugging as she was hilarious in her turn in ‘Emma’. From there, I’ve been revisiting her BBC sitcom ‘Miranda’ to laugh away the winter nights, and because of that she earns this Dazzler of the Day.
While not quite lamenting all the gray in my hair now, it was a slight jolt when I saw a picture from a decade ago of me on Christmas Eve with decidedly fewer gray hairs (like none). My friend Marline quickly came to my defense against my own self-doubt by saying that I earned them. (And to be fair, we earned them together, with a few usual suspects draining the color from our heads.)
These days, there are far greater concerns than gray hair or the world-weary wrinkles and lines that are creeping into my face. I’ve made my peace with the aging process mostly, and most of my squawking and complaining is merely for show. Something to go along with the general impression and image the world has of me, the version that makes it easier to deal with daily life. Not a big deal really. I’ve reached the age where it doesn’t bother me as much – it’s more of a fascinating realization that maybe I’ve come a little further in my own self-acceptance than I give myself credit for.
Winter gray, like the coat of a wolf or some silver fox, can be quite beautiful, especially at this time of the year. It indicates a hard-won reserve of wisdom and genuine confidence, with nary the need to pretend anymore. (There’s also a sprinkling of fuck-around-and-see-what-happens in it.) Whatever gets one through the winter.
He said one of my favorite quotes right after I stopped drinking two years ago: we were out at the movies doing our usual concession stand shenanigans and he remarked, “All these years I thought you were just drunk when you were saying these things but it turns out you’re just obnoxious.” That sort of keen observation is what makes him a Dazzler, and this Christmas jacket confirms it.
Not even the Grinch could stop Christmas from coming, and came it did, and then it went, and here we are. Last night’s holiday recap covers most of how this season went, so no need to re-hash all the noise and the jolliness and the worry and the strife. We made our peace with it, and are at a happier place now. That’s the magic of Christmas at work. How long it lasts depends on how well we remember it. Let’s work to get some memories solidified before they disappear.
Fed up with the asshole anti-vaxxers, maybe we just need to let them take the Darwin exit.
The Winter Solstice arrived, engaging the last season before spring comes again.
The lone Dazzler of the Day was a doozy, and a friend of mine: Sean McLaughlin.
On the second day of winter my true love gave to me…
A bit of holiday magic and movie hope.
Who doesn’t love a bright and shiny ball?
‘Twas the night before the night before Christmas.
A cheeky bit of Christmas ass-crack, because I’m still me.
The solemnity of Christmas Eve.
The light in church at Christmastime.
We were fortunate enough to have a lovely family Christmas with Mom and Dad and immediate family in Amsterdam – and that’s about all I wanted for Christmas this year. I think we are all realizing how lucky we are simply to be here and with each other after the past couple of years. Everyone is getting older, and the fleeting nature of time impresses itself upon us in various difficult ways. For this Christmas, we paused as a family and enjoyed the company and the love. That merits a look back at this whole holiday season here, much of which was spent staving off the chaos and trying to focus on the calm and peace.
It began with the close of October, and the mysteries of Halloween, framed with a song and a hat.
Hints of the season began to hit more solidly in mid-November.
Thanksgiving came and went without a gathering, thanks to COVID.
December arrived with the holly and the ivy.
A holiday tablescape formed the centerpiece of a couple of dinners.
Two queens in a king-sized bed kept things cozy while outside the wind raged.
Sailing high above the world, to better view the ships.
Dreams and hopes of a Boston holiday.
Cooking for a Christmas at the cathedral.
The Holiday Card 2020: a peaceful affair filled with somber slumber.
The secret of the Russian holiday tea, revealed and laid bare.
With a hush and a wink, I sang my little heart out in this Christmas concert memory from decades ago.
Andy finally brought me around (read: beat me down) with a few marathon days of this Christmas classic.
While my holiday stroll with Kira has been postponed, after the calamity that was 2020, it doesn’t feel so earth-shattering – we opted for this look-back to bide the time until it happens.
An unconventional Christmas song.
The arrival of winter, on its second day.
Edelweiss and a shiny bright ball.
‘Twas the night before the night before Christmas.
The solemnity of Christmas Eve and the light recalled from a Christmas mass.
This marked the 50th Christmas my Mom and Dad spent together. A happy milestone for all of us.
When you find yourself with an abundance of ham, one of the best things to do aside from split pea soup is a batch of ham salad. Andy crafted this delicious bowl of it after a recent ham dinner, and since many will be left with the remnant of a Christmas ham, it’s an idea whose time is once again at hand. It also provides a punchier flavor palette when the Christmas staples – turkey and mashed potatoes and gravy – become monotonous. Thanks to its exquisitely-sharp accents of relish and a dash of vinegar that Andy claims is the secret to a perfect ham salad, this can be put on a sandwich or toast points or whatever cracker you have on hand.
A simple snack for the come-down from Christmas.
Mom told me that this year marked the 50th year that she and Dad were spending Christmas together, which made for a very special evening, one for which I’m supremely grateful and thankful. We’re all getting older, and every Christmas spent together is now cherished and felt a little deeper.
After a delicious dinner cooked by Mom, we opened our Christmas gifts, the same way we’ve done for decades. When we are less and less sure of the world, and our place in it, there are some traditions that bring us all the way back to the safety and security of childhood, when everything felt right and full of wonder, even if it was just for one night out of the year. That one night was always enough to last until the next Christmas.
From our family to you and yours, I wish you the happiest of Christmas Days.
For those of us who miss attending Mass tonight, here is a video to remind you of the magic and magnificence, coupled with the simplicity and power of the reason for the season. Christmas is no longer as much about religion as it once was – it’s about something so much more.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7pqQ4y9_sBU
That expansive idea, of spirituality and a universal love, is sparked by Christmas only when we take the time to push aside the commercial circus and return to a place of purity and humanity.
We need a little break in the solemn Christmas processional and the unrelenting march to this most sacred Christian tradition. We need a little air and space in the claustrophobic rush and cramped crush of the season. Most of all, we need a little Christmas cheek to counteract all the seriousness of the world at the moment. And that is something I can provide – perhaps the only thing I can provide these days – so let me turn on my cheeky charm, turn around and pose by the Charlie Brown Christmas tree, and post a Christmas bop by the Jackson Five.
Levity and brevity – that’s the aim for what remains of our holiday season. Whether that’s in clothing or gatherings or just making it through the damn day. Drop the seat, kick the beat, all-you-can-eat. ‘Tis the damn season. Make it merry.
The older we grow, the darker our holidays seem to get. But even at the ripe old age of 46, I still find moments of magic and wonder, especially on this most magical night of the year. While the world anxiously awaits the explosion of gifts and wrapping and mayhem on Christmas Day, it is the supreme calm of Christmas Eve that I’ve always enjoyed more, even as a boy.
A sense of serenity imbues the calm before the storm, and in many ways there’s no greater storm than Christmas morn. Christmas Eve is that pocket of time that suddenly feels hushed, not rushed – a break in the relentless lead-up to the main event, as if the world is slowly taking a deep breath before letting all hell break loose again.
In that quiet space and solemn time, my parents always took us to Christmas Mass, where I usually served as an altar boy. The packed crowd and their winter clothes darkened the cavernous place, lending a cozier atmosphere, one charged with the reminder of why we were all celebrating: the simple story of the birth of Jesus. A straw-laden manger, topped with evergreen boughs and twinkling lights, was populated by statues of the characters of the story – and for Christmas mass the baby Jesus finally made his miraculous appearance.
The message of this silent evening – the appearance of the miracle of hope and goodness, of light in the darkest night – always struck through all the wish lists and frantic running around that otherwise signaled the season. It grounded me, even as a child who could have been forgiven for flying off on childish fancies. Over the years, Christmas Eve retained that stillness and silence, even if it was fleeting, even if it came saddled with the growing pains of family and life and a world that felt increasingly hostile. For this one night, everything could be peaceful, everything calm.
