This azalea grows in downtown Albany, on a little side walkway that most people rarely use, which makes it a favorite thoroughfare of mine. Its colours – that brilliant magenta against a forest of bright chartreuse – make for a combustible combination, one that has thrilled me since I was a child. Here, it sets itself aflame in the more beautiful manner – harbinger of a fiery season to come.
As for spring, there’s still some more of it, so let’s make the most of it while it lasts – it’s been such a lovely journey thus far, and I don’t quite want it to end…
There is a certain segment of people that will always enjoy seeing me in states of distress, duress, and undress. I’ve endeavored to accept this without catering or kowtowing to them.
I’m also digging this glimpse of her bathroom. It’s probably the size of my entire house, and with much better lighting. The rich and famous just live better than the rest of us. Alas…
This year’s Mother’s Day itinerary on Broadway included two new shows and a return to our old stomping ground of the Marriott Marquis. As much as I abhor Times Square, and do I ever hate it, having a homebase there just a block or two from the restaurants and theaters where we were headed makes everything easier, especially when time is of the essence. It’s also nice to have a nearby location to go in-between shows, rather than having to trek out a few enormous blocks that are just slightly less than a subway ride away.
It looked to be a rainy weekend, but we managed to mostly avoid getting wet, even as showers threatened from the very first stage of journey – the train ride down along the Hudson River. Clouds bracketed glimpses of blue sky and peeks of sun, and there were spells of rain the whole ray down. Once we entered Manhattan, the sun came out and it was warmer than the Albany climate we had just left. Our first show was ‘Two Strangers (Carry a Cake Across New York)’ and it was the ideal NY-themed show to christen our weekend back on Broadway. Captivatingly charming, it’s a look at the earliest rumblings of possible love amid the pasts we all carry with us, done in a light-hearted and hilarious way.
The next day we went shopping at Bloomingdales and along Fifth Avenue – and by shopping I mean cologne sampling. I tried many – too many – before settling on a standard I’ve been flirting with for many years – details to come. Rain was scheduled to arrive that afternoon, so we walked back our hotel, stopping for a cafe culture moment outside while the weather was fair. (No, I did not purchase these exquisite shoes.)
Dinner was fortuitously scheduled for The View (the revolving restaurant on top of our hotel) so we didn’t have to brave the weather – a happy circumstance that found us skirting the last remnants of the rainstorm. Atop The View, we spun around slowly, taking in all sides of Manhattan as a dramatic cloudscape paraded before us. Not sure if there’s anything as kitschy as a revolving restaurant, and I loved it all the more for that. (The last time I was in a restaurant that revolved was on a childhood summer vacation with the family in Montreal – Mom recalled that and said that my brother and I had insisted on dining there, which rings true to what a kid would want.)
As dinner passed, and the city swirled beneath us, the clouds departed and a bit of blue sky appeared before turning shades of pink for the sunset. It made for an idyllic walk to the Palace Theatre, where our second show was playing. I hadn’t been to the theater since the last performance of this ‘Sunset Boulevard’ revival – and this was a totally different production.
A visually magnificent feat of theatrical wonder, ‘The Lost Boys’ literally flies, succeeding in its smoky atmosphere of ominously entertaining scenes – a fun romp that will have fans of the original film more than fulfilled. While it didn’t quite move me as much as ‘Two Strangers…’ it’s worth taking in for the effects and ambiance.
Our Mother’s Day tradition concluded for another season – next year will mark the 30th anniversary of our very first Broadway weekend tradition, so we will be going all out for that… stay tuned.
Born all the way up and over in Alaska, Charles Melton has made the perilous journey from male model to actor with deft aplomb and sure footing, something not many models are able to accomplish. With notable roles on ‘Glee’ and ‘American Horror Story’, Melton earned his finest accolades from his role in ‘May December’ – and today he can add Dazzler of the Day to his impressive resume.
I thought I could – the same way I contained a wild sweet pea (which I still have under somewhat stringent control) but mint is a different animal entirely, with its deceptive runners that creep wherever it senses water, sprouting up many feet from its source, and then splitting off into numerous other channels.
Much of this lilac spring has been fantasy and head-living. The the outside world refused to cooperate weather-wise, when we were struck down with sickness, when one simply felt icky and drab with dampened spirits, I’d retreat to the beautiful yarns running through my mind, a place that has never failed to elicit escape and wonder and enchantment in the darkest of days.
For now, when rain is in the forecast and summer seemingly backs away from its approach, a list of summer starts to remind us how life in the sunny season may once again come to pass…
When it comes to brownies, are you a center-lover or an edge-eater? I’m a corner fan myself… and it looks like this brownie baking tray is just for those of us who like all the edges we can get.
When I was a kid, our neighbors two houses down had a magnificent magnolia tree in their backyard. I would sneak through the woods behind our houses and estimate how far I had to go to find their yard, then emerge on the edge of their property, spying the magnolia tree in full resplendent bloom. I would stay there, close to the ground, transfixed with wonder and amazement at this stately tree absolutely overflowing with rich blooms marbled and mottled with pink, along with a delicate fragrance delivered on the breeze. Sometimes the ground would be wet with spring, and my pants would be soaked by the time I got back home; I never cared because glimpsing the magnolia blooms fed my soul for the whole following winter.
Offering a glimpse of a summer to possibly come, this Greek salad was enjoyed poolside on a day when the temperatures reach into the 90’s – because we can’t just go from winter to spring – we have to have winter, then fall, then winter again, then brutal fall, then winter again… well, you get the sad idea. By the time this gets posted, we may be back in the rainy doldrums, so I’m putting this up to remind myself that there are sunny days behind us, and sunny days ahead.
This salad is simple enough – it’s mostly about the chopping and finding the freshest ingredients. Comprised of garbanzo beans, cucumbers, tomatoes, artichoke hearts, Kalamata olives, roasted chicken, and lettuce, it’s dressed in a lemon juice, olive oil, oregano, garlic and dijon mustard dressing. (A few sidetracks from a traditional Greek salad as there is no red onion, and I included lettuce for filler.) When it comes to salad, everyone should toss it their own way.
Dahlias were opine of the first plants I ever planted as a kid – drawn solely to the picture on the label, I expected grand dinner-plate-sized blooms and every day that summer I went out and inspected them for growth and buds, all to no avail. I didn’t read the fine print about how late they started blooming, and for a kid that was an interminable exercise in patience and waiting. Throughout that summer, I watched them slowly rise, but by the time it took to get to the blooms it was already August, and the light and wind had change, signifying fall and taking away some of the summer joy that was only present on the front end of the season.
These days dahlias carry different meanings and memories ~ some sorrowful, some hopeful and bright, and some promising of some future assignation for blooms to come closer to fall. A good flower – the kind that lasts for centuries – carries shifting resonance and meaning, offering varied readings as life shifts and changes.
Having grown up in an age without the internet, and being around for the technological revolution that brought the entire world online, I’ve always had a relatively healthy balance between online and real life. (It seems like I’m on social media all the time, but the truth is I’m usually on three times a day – just to post links to these blog entires.) The time-crunch is in writing these posts, not bopping around on social media, so when this place went offline this past week, I had a lot of time and freedom to touch grass, as they say.
It felt in some ways like I was returning to the world, and I absolutely loved it. The idea and feeling of free time was entirely foreign to me, so it did take a few days of adjustment where I felt like I was walking around like a stunned mullet. (The fish, not the hair-style.) It takes a while to adjust to that when you’ve been doing daily posts for decades. Being quickly adaptable allowed for me to switch swiftly into this new groove – spending time outside, swimming in the pool, picking up the gardening chores that had been piling up, and making multiple trips to the nursery for mulch and soil and plants (the one drawback of the Mini-Cooper). Suzie and I met for Yemeni coffee (well, matcha) at a new place in Latham (Shibam) where I handed off keys for Boston – she’s heading there for a Belle & Sebastian concert this week. (Hello Fox in the Snow.) And I’ve resumed outfit preparation for dinner and a show with Sherri and Skip in a few weeks (lots of sequin and bead work before I go as blind as a nun). Life is for living.
The past week felt a bit like living a secret life, where the curtain was closed, and all the behind the scenes action became the real story – untold except for those directly participating. It was thrilling, and a welcome reminder that it’s good to shake things up to jumpstart a whole new chapter.
We reluctantly return to where we didn’t quite last leave off in our lilac spring, as my website has been down for about a week thanks to the company, Enom, who held my domain name. Apparently the folks there had a difficult time figuring out that I, Alan Ilagan, am the actual owner of alanilagan.com, and it took a full week to convince them that the person running alanilagan.com was in fact Alan Fucking Ilagan. Way more on that later – for now, a recap on what you probably missed, as most of these posts went up the the site was down. Ahh, technology…
