“I’ve been singing and kissing mirrors since I was six.” ~ Auli’i Cravalho
Same! For that relatable reason alone, Auli’i Cravalho has my heart – she also earns this Dazzler of the Day thanks to star-making turns in ‘Moana’, ‘Mean Girls’, and ‘Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club’. Check out her Insta here.
What am I even doing in this photo?!
Coquettishly covering my mouth like some coy geisha?
Channeling Bette Davis ferociously puffing away on some cigarette?
Blowing a kiss to an imaginary arena of adoring fans?
Preparing the world for the sassy express about to depart from Track F as in Fabulous?
Who fucking knows.
I will say that I would still wear this outfit if it came in my size, and I would rock it just as hard as I rocked it way back then. Despite a world that seems intent on destroying one’s inherent spirit, I ended up living my life in surprisingly unabashed ways, often because my own sense of fabulousness eclipsed the whispers and derogatory remarks that floated around me. Sometimes they got through, and sometimes they stung, but every attack built me up in some way.
When I look at this picture, it fills me with pride, because it took guts to be who I was when the world was telling me to be someone – anyone – else. Sometimes it still does – and on those days I just put on my sassiest pair of pants and keep marching.
Air kisses!
The trailer for ‘Wicked: For Good’ is due to premiere just as I am writing this post, so by the time I plan for it to go live, you may have had your first look at the new ‘Wicked’ movie coming out on November 21, 2025 (I’ll come back to post it once it’s up). To say this is the movie I’m most excited to see this year is no surprise, especially after how many times I saw the first one. Fellow fans have been chomping at the bit for any new ‘Wicked: For Good’ info and promotional news, so this first trailer drop is a very big deal, as was this poster reveal, which finds Elphaba reaching out toward each other, or perhaps pulling away. There isn’t enough credit given to the complexity often at work in the movie, and especially the original book. Anyway, I’m eagerly awaiting the hints and teases to come, because I love the… anticipation. From now until November, I’m here for all the edging.
When the credit card chickens come home to roost, May doesn’t feel as fun in June.
PS – The Trump economy sucks.
PPS – TACO.
A hint of our summer theme glistens on the surface of the pool, as the era of coquette has already drawn to its close. This year shall be lighter and looser, and perhaps a little more fun. The older I get, the less I know, and in acknowledging our limits and failings, there is freedom. Wouldn’t it be striking if we took a summer, designed it for fun, and found ourselves inadvertently leaning into mindfulness through the very essence of living in the moment and letting things go?
And so we shall begin in a few weeks, when summer officially arrives, and he veil of spring is lifted at last. It’s bee a trying one – we are headed for our 30th consecutive weekend of measurable precipitation and the soul is weary. Already, the peonies have powdery mildew, the garden is overgrown, and all the rain has prevented me from getting a handle on anything. It’s merely the universe telling me to let go and have a season of pure lazy enjoyment. If a bit of a jungle vibe sneaks into the official summer theme, it’s not entirely unwanted. We can go with the flow.
Stay tuned – summer whispers on tonight’s warm breeze…
What is that bright blaring thing in the sky?
It’s the sun!
Where in fuck have you been?!?
{Excitedly checks the weather app after shutting the shit down on the 29th consecutive weekend of rain… and sees the upcoming weekend set for… more rain.}
Before that next weekend of rain arrives, let’s have our sun and eat it too.
A few miscellaneous flower shots from our recent trip to Maine, and now I’m heading into the light… for the moment…
You know how when you drop a blueberry on the floor, it takes up, what, maybe 1/10,000 of actual floor space? Like, it’s the smallest amount of floor space compared with the vast expanse of non-blueberry-covered floor.
Why is it, then, that of all the fucking floor space available without a blueberry on it, that is the exact space where your bare foot decides to land?
(There’s a real blueberry shit story from my childhood, but that one deserves its own post. This one comes to you from a rainy weekend of agitation brought on by all the rain.)
My friend Chris – straight, white, cis male friend Chris – wished me a Happy Pride yesterday, and without thinking I snapped/texted back, ‘Pride is dead.’ (In my defense it had also just started raining a-fucking-gain and my mood was decidedly homocidal in a fabulously homosexual way.) I followed it up with a more lengthy explanation of how, after 49 years of fighting (because when you’re gay every day can be a fight when you are being raised in a hetero-centric social world construction and always out of your element) I was simply worn out and exhausted. In the face of the regression that this country seems to be embracing, I am genuinely too disheartened to do any sort of pride stuff.
I realize this is exactly what oppression is, and what it wants, and why it works – I just don’t care at the moment. Someone else will have to take up that mantle – for my own mental health, and my own happiness and well-being, I can’t do much more than try to live this pretty little life with Andy and my friends and family, and hope that the bulk of America does something to make things better. (Voting for Republicans, or not voting at all, is clearly destroying this country.)
But as these pictures will attest, just because my pride isn’t blatantly apparent or on parade all the time doesn’t mean it’s not there. It’s in me always, in every single way I live my life – openly and unabashedly, defiantly or acceptingly, loudly or quietly. I don’t need a sanctioned month of token allyship or corporate posing to make me feel worthy or whole. That said, Pride month still matters, perhaps now more than ever, so keep celebrating, keep parading, keep doing what we’ve been doing for decades in the hope of something better happening. My denim-clad rainbow ass will always have your back. On with the weekly blog recap (and one more subtle pride pic below…)
In the name of comfort, a pink doughnut.
For those who need a little pump and bump.
Four male celebrities in white briefs.
Three decades ago I met my tribe.
A brief pubic pause in the name of divinity.
A scent on the verge of summer – this is Tilia.
A midnight post to share with you.
Our Ogunquit Adventures began in the rain…
… and ended quite happily in the sun.
Dazzlers of the Day included Chris Colfer, Vincent Chong, and Ricky A. Schroeder.
Eventually the sky brightened – glimpses of blue and peeks of sun emerged – though storms and rain were encroaching and surrounding us at all times, occasionally rearing some rainy moments. One time we were at the beach, just skirting the entrance, when the skies turned dark so we had to hurry back to the inn – there’s a photo below of that, but before we got there we did manage to find some lilacs in full bloom – their scent evocative of childhood and happiness and springs that came before.
Not only were the traditional lilac lilacs in bloom, but the more rare white lilac was putting on a show – an elegant and slightly softer-scented version of its ubiquitous cousin.
They held their heads up in the face of incoming stormy patches, when the sky started spitting rain and the wind picked up in slightly menacing fashion. It was just enough drama to keep things interesting – and as long as it wasn’t a steady downpour for hours at a time, we managed to be in and out and variously about to make the most of this precious part of Maine.
Breaks of sun made for pockets of bloom time for some of the understory flowers and shrubs, who lit up the cloudy sections with their pastel prettiness.
By Sunday, our last full day in town, the stormy patches had passed and the Marginal Way was sunny.
The waves were still being dramatic, which made for wonderful moments of wave-watching.
Having made our way to Perkins Cove, we picked up a few gifts for Mom, including a fabulous scarf from Kiki’s (where I once found a glorious blue boa that will one day fill a blog post as promised).
The walk back was as beautiful as the way there, only it felt like it went by faster, as is usually the case with pleasant experiences.
The whole long Memorial Day weekend went by that way… the way life should be.
Our last morning dawned in sunny and fine fashion – the way every single departure day from Ogunquit has always gone – I’ve a mind to schedule an extra day in the future just to play with fate. As we checked out with Anthony at the Scotch Hill Inn, we booked our fall visit – a little bit of hope to ease the end of summer when it comes.
How fitting that I am writing about our latest Ogunquit adventures on a very rainy Saturday morning. Rain is very clearly our spring theme – forget about dreaming – and to be frank, this rain is BULLSHIT. Anyway, even with the wet stuff, we can never have a bad time in Ogunquit, so let’s revisit our visit.
Our Thursday entry into town was – surprise! – a rain-soaked endeavor, reminding us of the first few years we started coming to the Beautiful Place By the Sea, where every trip was accompanied by steady rain. This marks our 25th year of visiting Maine together, and it’s always a treat. This was the very first trip that Andy and I took as a couple. It felt right 25 years ago, and it still feels right today.
While the drive through Massachusetts was a rainy one, once we arrived in Ogunquit the sky was only spitting a bit. Heavier rain would return for our dinner at Walker’s later that night, but for the first few minutes there was a little reprieve. We made a quick walk across the street for a lunch snack, while a wind, decidedly too cool for a spring visit, danced around us. The sky threatened rain again, so we hurried back to the Inn.
We settled into our favorite room at the Scotch Hill Inn, which is a sanctuary of comfort at every time of the year and in every sort of weather condition. Coupled with the amazing breakfasts by inn-keeper Anthony, we could be happy simply staying in, and for the rainy periods that’s largely what we did – it was heaven.
While the rain allowed for guilt-free lounging, it also afforded blooms and water-accented leaves of beauty for passers-by who happened upon them.
The town was largely in full bloom – apple blossoms and iris and azaleas were all putting on a splendid show, even through the rainy weather.
I found my way to a favored woodland walk, where wake robins were in their charming bloom – usually by the time we arrive their show has already taken place. The weather worked in our favor this time, as they were at the pinnacle of their floral magnificence.
What we gained from the trilium, we lost in the form of very few Rosa rugosa blooms, though we managed to captured this lone white version. It had to carry all the charm of the spring in a single blossom, and it did.
We don’t take many vacations, so it takes a while to get into a vacation groove. While I pretend to be hard-wired for lounging and ease, the truth is I’m a hard-working Virgo who rarely just relaxes. That takes a while to calibrate, and I remember a former co-worker many years ago telling me that she needed two weeks for a proper vacation – because the first week was simply learning how to decompress – and I totally get it.
It’s a little easier to more quickly find vacation bearings in Maine, where the living and eating is so good. As Friday dawned, the sky looked a little lighter…
At the time of this writing – approximately 10:24 PM – it is still raining, and it’s been raining the entire day. This is reportedly the 29th consecutive weekend of precipitation being recorded in the Albany area. That just about broke me. Andy walked in during a tirade that included more f-words than I’ve uttered in a while because I’m so behind in the garden that I’m leaning into a jungle theme this summer because it’s already too late to prune the shit back. So much needed to be dug out several weeks ago. Oh well.
Feels like a crappy way to begin June, so I’m finding a song of comfort to see us through the night. Give this one a whirl. It’s the emotional finale of ‘Maybe Happy Ending’, one of the most charming things on Broadway right now.
“Those sunny afternoons you spent with me, they’ll still be happening, just somewhere in the past. Each simple moment was a luxury – they’re not less valuable just cause they didn’t last.”
Yes, sunny afternoons feel far away in such dreary times, but somewhere they’re still shining. A comforting thought.
At the start of June…
Oh sweet Linden tree, how you so deceptively hide your green flowers among your foliage, emitting your delicious perfume in disguise while we all seek out what exotic and colorful bloom is the cause of such sweetness in the air! For many years, I half-heartedly sought out a linden tree fragrance, as cloying as it could sometimes be when a grove of them scented the warm air, but I never came across anything worthy of note until a recent weekend in NY.
After perusing the Creed line for a summer fragrance at Bergdorf Goodman (and getting nowhere) the perfume rep off-handedly pulled a bottle of Tilia by Marc-Antoine Barrois. Before smelling it, I wondered if it was related to the scientific name for the Linden tree of these parts (Tilia cordata or Tilia americana) and once the rep sprayed a little on a sample card, the scent of summer immediately filled the air. The universe sometimes has a way of rewarding those who are patient, and often when it’s least expected.
This is not entirely a natural linden fragrance – it carries a few synthetic aspects that may not fool some people into thinking it’s the real thing, but it’s certainly close enough, and has enough charm to kindle the elusive aura of almost-summer. A most tender perfume for this most tender time.
Layers of honeyed florals – linden, heliotrope, jasmine and broom ñ somehow don’t combine into something atrociously cloying, though this is a sweet floral, fit mostly for those who love the linden. It also tends to go quiet rather quickly, shyly retreating after its initial burst of summery sweetness – which is part of early summer’s charm, and welcome when the height of mid-day heat would render it a burden.
Still, there is a sparkling richness to this perfume, a creamy confection that shimmers in the summer sun, and shines in the summer rain.
A multi-talented multi-hyphenate Renaissance man in the truest sense of the term, Ricky A. Schroeder is currently at the top of his game, starring in a Broadway show (Boop! The Musical), releasing new music, and making his annual daring splash in Broadway Bares. Schroeder has a number of theatrical credits under his dance belt, having performed in ‘Kinky Boots’, ‘Footloose’, and ‘Becoming Nancy’. His television and film work includes memorable turns on ‘Pose’, ‘Hairspray Live!’, ‘The Last Five Years’, ‘Tales of the City’ and ‘The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel‘. As his singing/song-writing alter-ego Ricky Asch, he’s given us ‘He’s A Ghost’, ‘Don’t Try to Find Me’, and ‘town of eternal snow’ – with new single ‘Come With Me’ due June 13. For Broadway Bares, he’s single-handedly raised over $100,00 in the years he’s been part of the enterprise. Taken together, it’s a life and a career that merits the first-ever third crowning as Dazzler of the Day. (See his most recent honor in this post.)
Check out Ricky’s website here, pre-order his new single ‘Come With Me’ here, and donate to his Broadway Bares page here.
