Category Archives: General

Here we have arrived at the last day of winter, and the heart can’t help but leap a little in rejoicing. It certainly felt like a long one, even if we didn’t get an especially large number of snowstorms. The one we had were substantial enough to give decent snow cover for a considerable amount of time – which bodes well for the perennials. That’s not to say that our snow days are quite over for the year – they tend to linger, and are often more fierce coming at the tail-end of the season. Don’t count Mother Nature out ever. 

As for these chocolate Easter eggs, they are an early and limited treat, as a new fitness and better-eating regime is about to be installed in our home. The arrival of spring means summer is not far behind, and this body is not nearly pool-ready. There is much work to be done… 

I would venture that many of us know how this mask feels: broken, beat down, worn, torn and ragged. Roughed up and scuffed up and tossed away like so much discardable waste. After a year of occupying this new reality, a new fatigue has set in, and if spring doesn’t hurry up and unlock us from our winter imprisonment, I’m fearful for what this inmate might perpetrate. Thinking back to one year ago is an exercise in astonishment – both for what actually transpired over this past year, and in the way that we used to live just 365 days ago. 

At the start of last March I was in the office sitting across from Sherri at her desk, almost teasingly floating the impossible idea of things closing, and I distinctly remember saying that there was no way they would cancel the show we were about to see, and if they did I said they would have to close all of Broadway which would never happen. We all know that that’s exactly how it all happened in the following weeks, and it’s now been one full year since the last time our whole office was at work together.

In that time, a new reality and way of life has emerged. It was a rocky path at first. Work-wise I think a lot of us struggled to find our footing in those early days – personally it felt like I was working in the dark, unsure and unaware of where all my usual shortcuts and files were, but eventually, and rather quickly, we found our way again, and in many ways working remotely has improved both the quality and quantity of my work output. More importantly, a new way of life in the way of caring for others and being more careful with people emerged as all of us worked to protect ourselves and our loved ones in the face of a world-wide pandemic. It seems not even that was able to fully impress itself upon the immensity of our population – and some not-so-smart people still don’t seem to get it. This is one of those history-making moments that changes the trajectory of the world. I’m not sure why people can’t see it. To that end, my family and friends have shifted our lives accordingly, and in the end it will be for the better.

Where once I lamented on the loss of a Plaza weekend in New York, or a Mother’s Day weekend with Mom, or our almost-annual BroSox Adventure with Skip, I now mourn for over 536,000 lost American lives (and counting), for an increasingly racist society emboldened by white supremacy that can seemingly go unchecked even when breaking into our very Capitol building, and for so many ill-informed and hate-filled people who readily gobble up blatant and easily refutable lies. While President Biden is doing an amazing job of cleaning up the mess left by the former guy, so much hatred and indivisibility has been unleashed it is an impossible task to fix it all – but I have not quite given up. If anything, I’m becoming more vocal about what will and will not stand. Justice and truth and equality are the tenets upon which America was founded. Now is not the time to give up. And so we go into this second year of our new reality, with a resurgence of inspiration, a jolt of doing what is just and right, and the knowledge that the direction of our country’s moral compass depends on all of us. 

Lent typically signifies the final stretch of winter and the early days of spring. This year is no exception, as it bridges the two seasons, roughly at its midsection as we turn the chapter from winter to spring at the end of this week. The last official week of winter is a glorious thing indeed – and while there will surely be snow and frigid days and nights yet to be had, we are almost there. Let’s have that weekly look back and then rush to the sunnier days… 

The Madonna Timeline returned with ‘Crave’ from ‘Madame X’. 

Prim spring blooms. 

A Madonna prayer.

The art of Andy’s reparation.

Roses of winter & Lent.

It felt good to get unplugged.

From magnolia to chrysanthemum.

Scent begets memory.

Brushed with blush.

Skip had the very first COVID birthday, and had his second one this week. 

I’ve been crocheting this blanket since 1986.

Portrait in gray.

Winter deflated.

Dazzlers of the Day included Jonathan Tucker, Kristen Johnston, Alex Beresford, Patrick Allen Wood, George Takei, and Omar Apollo.

“It is not by the gray of the hair that one knows the age of the heart.” ~ Edward Bulwer-Lytton

Do not be deceived by my downtrodden and wayward gray hair in these photos – I have not quite give up despite physical evidence to the contrary. In fact, almost one year into the new pandemic-plagued world in which we have morphed, I find myself reaping the benefits of a more healthy existence, even in the face of these new risks and dangers that are rifling through the world. When it all came crashing to a halt last March, I was in the beginning stages of improving my habits. I’d stopped drinking the previous fall, I’d started meditating on a daily basis, and I was about to embark on the popular Yale University course ‘The Science of Well-Being’. Taken together, those three items would see me through the first year of COVID-19 (along with therapy), and rather than break or bother me, this new way of life led me to a calmer and happier place. 

“Gray hair is a crown of life.” ~ Lailah Gifty Akita

So when I see these fun pre-shower and pre-haircut photos, they don’t embarrass or embody the interior as much as they tickle me. That’s not some fancy designer shirt in a trendy shade of nude – it’s an Airism undershirt from Uniqlo. There’s no dime-sized application of hair-product or any crazy coloring job to disguise all those grays – that’s just my hair after going three months without a haircut. Best of all, there’s no hiding behind hats or elaborately-adorned jackets or exquisite silk scarves – there’s just an honest exploration of the moment at hand – the moment we all inhabit, and the moment in which we all have the choice to embrace or repel or simply exist. Being comfortable here is the only way to being comfortable anywhere. 

{All that being said, I did just get a haircut, but I didn’t do it for all those wise-ass detractors about to come for me: I did it for spring. And easy-upkeep.}

“Look, moon
I turned silver for you.”
~ Sanober Khan

Skip’s birthday last year more or less started the COVID shut-down for these parts, being that it was the first birthday/event that was canceled thanks to the world closing up shop. We were supposed to be having cocktails at the Plaza, eating an amazing Japanese dinner planned by Sherri, and taking in ‘Plaza Suite’ for Skip’s birthday festivities – and absolutely everything fizzled in the first shut-down that took everyone by shock and surprise. Lost in all of that terrifying mayhem was our friend’s birthday – I don’t think we even acknowledged or mourned that aspect of it, so devastated were we by everything else that was going on, and I suddenly feel like a rather crappy friend for not being able to discern that then. 

Cut to a year later, and Skip and I have not been to the movies in all that time. We’ve managed a few socially-distanced get-togethers, some raucous trips to Trader Joe’s and a ghostly walk through Colonie Center, but winter weather and the roller-coaster that has been COVID kept us mostly apart this past year, and that’s been one of the more upsetting losses in this sad pandemic. Fortunately we’ve kept our friendship going through texts and social media – do us both a favor and follow him on Twitter (@daddydadblog) because he’s much more interesting than me. 

This year there are no festivities, a sad situation to which we are all mostly already acclimated. While the sting of disappointment is not unexpected, it’s still a little depressing, so as part of his gift this year I included a book for touring Savannah, to give us both a little hope. If we’re lucky, one of our next trips will be to Savannah – a rare couples get-away that we haven’t done enough. 

One of the things that Skip and I have in common is an insatiable love of living in the dream ideas of the moment. We can sit around and talk for hours about plans and possibilities, egging each other on with grandiose scenarios of how our world could, and perhaps should, be. Hatching schemes and running through various future events is not a bad way to spend time with a friend, especially when the majority of those plans come to fruition. We’ve plotted out all of our BroSox Adventure weekends in such a fashion, as we did various rendezvous with our significant others – the four of us meeting for cocktails in Times Square after a show, or dinner and a movie in Albany, and even a Friday night of games in Boston with their kids too. These days the power of planning – even if it’s just a fantasy – is imperative to keep dreams alive. 

The silly tour book of Savannah is my way of giving his second COVID birthday a little bit of hope. Happy birthday, old friend – here’s to getting back on track! 

The other day I went into the office and left my phone at home. I’ve never been one of those people who are glued to the phone – in fact, I was the last of my friends to even get a cel phone, and by far the last one to text – but eventually I gave in to both and made the most of it. Still, I prefer to go without than be bound to any technological crutch. I also tend to enjoy time alone and unbothered, so any excuse not to answer to texts or e-mails or calls is a blessing.

At first I did find myself reaching for the phone – out of habit – to check texts and e-mail, to see what people were posting on social media – but that only happened once. In its absence I soon felt a welcome respite of joy – the relief and release of not having easy access to FaceBook or Twitter or Instagram – and being separated from the social media world was a boon, particularly when at the office. That’s when something I realized only when it wasn’t instantly accessible, and it illuminated how reliant I’d become upon the phone as a way of escaping from the present moment. That’s not a good thing, at least not for me, and being mindful of the present moment is an integral piece of meditation that only seeps into the rest of life if you make the effort to let it.

On my lunch, instead of scrolling through everything I’d missed, head-down and oblivious to the world around me, I strolled through downtown Albany and could focus on every place and person I happened upon. The habitual nudge to document it with a few photos, or to stop and respond to someone’s text, was still with me, but the notion of FOMO, usually an accompaniment of being out of touch, had subsided. It reminded me of lunches long ago, before I even had a cel phone, when I would be fully present and invested in the world around me. Life felt simpler then because it was simpler. We survived and went about our lives just as contentedly, if not more-so, than today, when we can be in touch with everyone at a moment’s touch of the screen. It was a healthy reminder for me to step away from the phone, to step away from social media, and to step back into the beautiful real world all around me.

March dazzles in its own blustery way, and this week will supposedly bring in some spring-like temperatures. Having been burned, or more accurately, frozen in the past, I’ll not hold my breath until such a heat wave deigns to descend. Until such time, let’s recap the previous week of dazzlement. 

The Monday Blues were turned on their head by Kylie Minogue and her disco stick. 

Feeling nostalgic, and mourning the loss of two more Ogunquit establishments, here is my homage to the Ogunquit Oatie. 

Approaching peace in half an hour. 

Channeling Hollywood glamour in black and white.

Madonna’s greatest album ever.

Listening to the birds before the lions arrived.

Putting on a flower show in my mind.

A green twist on a popular pasta dish.

The long-lost art of impeccable customer services breeds glamour. 

Bloody beauty.

Darling, I’m a nightmare dressed like a daydream.

Ambrosia x Watergate: an Easter salad. 

Dazzlers of the Day included Dr. Angela Davis, Regé-Jean Page, Audra McDonald, Tyler Hoechlin, Javier Muñoz and Margaret Cho. 

Restarting the mood on March 1st began with a step outside. 

The air was still and cold, but not unbearably so. It was above freezing, and water droplets hung from the Chinese dogwood branches. It didn’t feel like lion weather, so the old adage for March entering like that majestic beast had not yet come to pass. This early in the morning, before work, before the delivery trucks rumbled by, before the mailman made his stop, the stillness of the start of a new month – the month in which spring arrives – felt rife with a strange and almost-unfamiliar sense of hope. I think it was the birdsong that surrounded me.

Glorious, continuous, all-encompassing birdsong filled the air – birds were suddenly in the trees and the bushes and the sky – their chirping and calls a most wonderful symphony. It was service to the soul, a long deep drink that quenched a parched thirst I had’t quite realized was there from all the winter silence. Such peace was not to last, nor were these droplets on the dogwood tree. 

When the work day was done, I sat down to a meditation, while outside the wind picked up. It would continue to grow, howling and raging and announcing that the birds were gone and the lion had arrived. March begins again, with a roar.

“There are many things in your heart you can never tell to another person. They are you, your private joys and sorrows, and you can never tell them. You cheapen yourself, the inside of yourself, when you tell them.” ~ Greta Garbo

“I’m selfish, impatient, and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I’m out of control, and at times hard to handle. But if you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best.” ~ Marilyn Monroe

“Glamour is what I sell, it’s my stock in trade.” ~ Marlene Dietrich

“I can remember a reporter asking me for a quote, and I didn’t know what a quote was. I thought it was some kind of soft drink.” ~ Joe DiMaggio

“I don’t think that people generally realize what the motion picture industry has done to the American Indian, as a matter of fact, all ethnic groups. All minorities. All non-whites. People just simply don’t realize. They take it for granted that that’s the way people are going to be presented and that these cliches are just going to be perpetuated.” ~ Marlon Brando

“You try to be yourself, do only what you’ve always done and like to do, and right away, you’re tagged as an oddball.” ~ James Dean

“I was constantly falling in love, and it never occurred to me that this was wrong or bad.” ~ Grace Kelly

“Women like me because I don’t look like a girl who would steal a husband. At least not for long.” ~ Jean Harlow

“You dance love, and you dance joy, and you dance dreams. And I know if I can make you smile by jumping over a couple of couches or running through a rainstorm, then I’ll be very glad to be a song and dance man.” ~ Gene Kelly

“The hardest job kids face today is learning good manners without seeing any.” ~ Fred Astaire

“When two people love each other, they don’t look at each other, they look in the same direction.” ~ Ginger Rogers

“All I wanted was just what everybody else wants, you know, to be loved.” ~ Rita Hayworth

“You can’t start worrying about what’s going to happen. You get spastic enough worrying about what’s happening now.” ~ Lauren Bacall

“We are taught you must blame your father, your sisters, your brothers, the school, the teachers – but never blame yourself. It’s never your fault. But it’s always your fault, because if you wanted to change you’re the one who has got to change.” ~ Katharine Hepburn

“Humor has been the balm of my life, but it’s been reserved for those close to me, not part of the public Lana.” ~ Lana Turner

“In this business, until you’re known as a monster, you’re not a star.” ~ Bette Davis (we love you)

Let’s do some spring cleaning and excise the remnants of the last week of February here, then quickly move forward into the month in which spring makes its grand, and much welcome, return. On with the recap…

The Hunk of the Day feature was retired, and in its place was born the Dazzler of the Day. First up was artist Glen Hanson.

Named after Nellie Olsen, my very first (and last) sourdough starter turned on me like a pet monkey. 

Mike Heslin dazzled with his Renaissance-like dabbling across the entertainment boards. 

Evergreen winter.

Cello lament.

After delivering her stunning Inaugural poem, Amanda Gordon earned this Dazzler of the Day feature.

My baby brother’s birthday.

Amanda Phingbodhipakkiya has been inspiring New York with her anti-racism campaign ‘I Still Believe in Our City’ at a time when anti-Asian acts of violence have been on the rise. 

Off the bone and off the hook.

Tuesday night in black and white.

My friend JoAnn requested Dolly Parton as a Dazzler of the Day, and she was rightfully instated that instant.

The words of Phillis Wheatley.

Rediscovering ‘The Way Back Home’ – the biography of Suzie’s father. 

The very first double Dazzler of the Day with Calvin and Bryan: I babysat the former and played cards with the grandmother of the latter. Damn, I’m old. 

Snow Moon mayhem.

Capping off a week of the new Dazzler of the Day feature, Ryan Landry ended things on an inspiring note.

A Burmese sweet treat.

This meme beats everything Madonna has posted on her Instagram account since she started it. 

Yeah, I said it. 

(Still love you, Material Girl.)

Like the recent bout of Mercury in retrograde, I didn’t have any inkling of when the next full moon was until the 25th. when I was out running errands and I witness three almost-accidents, and a number of crazy-questionable moves made by drivers and people who were out of their freaking minds. Once parked, I did a quick check on full moons for 2021, and there it was listed as next: the Snow Moon on February 27. Suddenly things made sense, and as annoying as it was, it set my mind slightly at ease, even when I lost an ice cream dessert when I got home later that night – still no idea where it went, but it’s melting somewhere. 

I’d been noticing similar agitations over the past few days: Andy’s been moping about causing me to retreat into the basement, angry about the latest car drama over his Audi. That car has been in the shop more than it’s been out of the shop over the last month, and it has almost killed us on occasion. Putting that down on record now in the event that something does eventually happen. Audi is on notice, as Andy has been telling them for months now. 

The rest of the world is similarly in an annoyed state, and as someone who is easily influenced, sponging up the surrounding attitudes like some dry super-absorbent fabric tossed onto a puddle, I’ve been in a state of bother for longer than I typically allow. At such moments, I find it wise to keep quiet and close to home, focusing on meditation and reading and buffering the outside world. 

On Virtue

O thou bright jewel in my aim I strive

To comprehend thee. Thine own words declare

Wisdom is higher than a fool can reach.

I cease to wonder, and no more attempt

Thine height t’explore, or fathom thy profound.

But, O my soul, sink not into despair,

Virtue is near thee, and with gentle hand

Would now embrace thee, hovers o’er thine head.

Fain would the heaven-born soul with her converse,

Then seek, then court her for her promised bliss.

Auspicious queen, thine heavenly pinions spread,

And lead celestial Chastity along;

Lo! now her sacred retinue descends,

Arrayed in glory from the orbs above.

Attend me, Virtue, thro’ my youthful years!

O leave me not to the false joys of time!

But guide my steps to endless life and bliss.

Greatness, or Goodness, say what I shall call thee,

To give an higher appellation still,

Teach me a better strain, a nobler lay,

O Thou, enthroned with Cherubs in the realms of day!”

– Phillis Wheatley