Category Archives: General

This little silver tinsel tree manages to be both retro and modern in a wonderful amalgamation of old and new – though being on display in the cellar is a decidedly new twist for holiday decor here in the house. It’s a bright spot in a season largely devoid of them. On with the weekly recap…

Greeting December with an orchid.

The Gaiety ~ once upon a male strip club in Times Square. 

The only tree that 2020 deserves.

Gratuitous guy candy/eye candy.

Setting this holiday on fire – literally.

Beneath a mystical moon.

A pair of holiday hoots.

Chamy Christmas.

Jewels of a pomegranate.

A Christmas river.

The scarlet poinsettia.

Mucking up a mocktail.

A bizarre Price Chopper exchange.

Hunks of the Day included Travis Scott, James Vaughan, Damien Lewis and Brett Eldridge.

The Salvation Army bell ringer had been ringing their bell outside of Price Chopper for several weeks, something that’s somehow more annoying when you do a little research and read about their shady anti-LGBTQ history. They’ve made attempts at fixing this, but the sour taste still lingers. That’s their business, so I always just walk by without saying a thing.

On this day, after picking up the groceries, I was checking out and the cashier asked if I wanted to round up my total and give to the Salvation Army.

“No thanks, not with their anti-gay history,” I said in as friendly a tone as I could muster. Looking slightly surprised, they continued ringing me out.

Then it was my turn to be surprised, as the cashier asked, “You’re not going to commit a hate crime like kicking over one of their buckets or something, are you?”

Mustering every ounce of self-control, I replied, “Umm, no. Also that’s not a hate crime.”

Cashier: “Just warning you that we have this all month so I may be asking you to donate again.”

Me: “Then I’ll repeat what I said as well.”

Just another interesting day at the local Price Chopper.

PS – Buy your groceries at Hannaford.

“Conversely, the red plant itself burns a brighter red when set off by the green than when it grows among its peers. In the bed I always reserved for poinsettia seedlings, there was little to distinguish one plant from its neighbours. My poinsettia did not turn scarlet until I planted it in new surroundings. Colour is not something one has, colour is bestowed on one by others.” ― Arthur Japin

All of our blood – no matter the color or shade of our skin – is red.

Something to keep in mind, and not only in the holiday season. 

Keeping thematically pure with the lines of this post earlier today, this Chamaecyparis, one of a pair standing sentinel by our front door, forms the only holiday-like decorations outside the house this year. I may string some lights around the Japanese umbrella pine that stands slightly taller than me in our small front garden. No more than that though. Not this year.

If you have a similar set-up for the holidays, and want to draw out the beauty for as long as possible, and maybe even see the greenery through the winter, don’t forget to keep these slightly waters, especially if they’re covered by a roof, as these are. When the snow arrives, and it always does, I will grab some and cover the soil with it, allowing it to melt slowly and naturally as it would into the ground. 

There’s still no guarantee or even likelihood that these will make it through the whole winter. Survival can only be counted on when the roots are secure and insulated beneath a healthy snow cover. Still, it’s worth a shot. And they make a beautiful spot of chartreuse splendor, especially as the morning sun weaves its way through the branches. 

Andy claims I have a propensity for trying to burn the house down. He’s being overly dramatic, but I do tend to have some sort of flammable mishap every year or so. This season I got the holiday fire over with rather early on, just as I began wrapping the presents. 

Setting the scene with a delicious candle of frasier fir, I conjured a cozy day after Thanksgiving, getting a headstart on the gift-giving. I started by clearing off the dining room table. No sooner had that been done that it quickly became populated with wrapping and presents, and I took a moment to make a peppermint mocha decaf coffee. Topping it off with some whipped cream – tis the season for such indulgences – I sat down and began stuffing a scarf into a bag. I grabbed some pink tissue paper and pushed it to the side as I refolded the scarf. Instantly, the pink tissue found the candle flame and went up like a piece of flash paper. Moving swiftly, I grabbed the part that hadn’t yet burned up and brought it quickly but relatively calmly to the kitchen sink, where Andy had already rushed in upon seeing the flames. 

A quick dousing of water took care of the remaining burning bits, though a bunch of smoke lingered as Andy turned the kitchen vents on and opened the front window. 

All in a holiday wrapping party of one. 

As Barbara Walters once said, “This is 2020.”

Guilty. 

So very damningly guilty.

I am.

Let us have beauty! Unattainable, unreliable, unrelenting beauty! 

For the start of December, we demand it. In the month when winter arrives after much hemming and hawing and hinting, we will need beauty and light and warmth more than ever. The holidays can falsely keep hopes lifted for only a short duration – soon that tree will lose its needles, those ornaments will lose their luster, and we will lose the spirit of cheer and joy that has only ever been temporary. Then we will be left scrambling to find the next fix, the next balm upon our hearts while the long trek of winter unfurls its endless wonder. That’s when beauty comes into play.

In the false heat and humidity of a greenhouse, these orchids bloom entirely unaware of the winter about to surround them. That winter will lay siege to all of our surroundings, but in the artificial environment of the greenhouse, these orchids will go about their business, happily blooming and growing and putting on a show. They will have no idea how helpful it will be for those of us just trying to make it through another day. Beauty does that. 

And so, let us have beauty for the beginning of December, and let it ring throughout the coming winter.

On this last day of November, let’s just look back at the week before and save everyone a monthly recap because there is only just so much recapping one can take. I’ve reached my limit, that is for sure. And the year-end summation is up next month. We’ll see if I muster that one. I don’t know anyone who wants to relive 2020 in any way, shape or fashion. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. On with the last week – it’s all I can handle at the moment.

Adam Lambert gave good face.

November grays. 

November roses.

Giving Madonna a voice again, with some hesitating.

A Thanksgiving scandal!

Biting whimsy.

For which I am most thankful.

A Thanksgiving poem.

Local twinkle by the Beekman Boys. 

A holiday thread.

This holiday mantle would have been perfect for my back.

Holiday scent start: ‘Royal Oud’ by Creed.

Eagle & crescent moon.

How we spent Thanksgiving in the garage. 

Finding a home in Boston twenty-five years ago.

Sunday morning solemnity.

Hunks of the Day included Wentworth Miller and Charlie Barnett.

A sunny Sunday morning dawns, and I steal into the backyard for a quick shot of the fountain grass, brilliantly lit against a blue sky. Looks lovely enough, though a far cry from the sumptuous green straps of summer. The sun deceptively doesn’t betray the cutting wind or chilly temperature. That’s what these words are for. In the background of my screen, a Sunday morning coffee jam by Karel Barnowski plays – the perfect accompaniment for some casual writing.

It’s not a bad way to begin a Sunday on the verge of December. Certainly the sun helps, along with the sky – the sort of blue brilliance that doesn’t often happen at the end of November. Maybe Mother Nature knows there is just so much more we can take in 2020. Doubtful, that. There’s always another level below. Better to be cautious.

But on this particular morning, the Sunday after Thanksgiving, I allow myself a brief moment of relief and release. I take a deep breath and appreciate the fluffy seed-heads of the fountain grass, and the way they move in the wind. We don’t get that kind of show in summer. It only comes after a full season of growth, and after the killing frosts of fall have turned the grass into a sun-bleached beacon of tan wonder.

With cross ventilation, social distancing, and separate eating areas, we managed to have as safe a Thanksgiving as possible in this pandemic era, and still spend time with family. It took some planning, but there was joy and fun in that process too, hours spent in the Ilagan garage, where we staged a dinner with some creative lighting and curtains, and a floral ladder hung over the main table. 

This year our bounty wasn’t in the delicious meal, or the extravagant flowers over our head, it was in the simple company of family. Andy’s parents haven’t been with us for a number of years, and every Thanksgiving we are reminded of their absence, as happens with most holidays. I was especially glad to have Mom and Dad still with us – something we appreciate more and more with each passing year. 

That’s why this was so important for us to do, and I’m grateful we were able to make it work. Company is good for Dad – and this year it was good for all of us. 

It doesn’t always, but this time Thanksgiving lived up to its name.

Oh, and I got to wear a hat with a bird in it! (I’ll get better pics of that another day.)

Shortly after I entered Massachusetts, I saw it swoop right over the turnpike, soaring through the cold air. Its front and back blurred into the bright sky, giving me a certain glimmer of hope and excitement which was soon confirmed as I watched it alight in a tree: a bald eagle. A fortuitous sign for the day ahead, in which I was scheduled to check on the condo and do a quick walk through Boston. The car sped by the eagle’s raw magnificence.

The forest teetered on the edge of holiday celebration. It was always slightly more interesting when the threat of snow was in the air. Maybe it lacked the obvious mystery that full canopy of leaves would provide in the depths of summer, but the woods held a different sort of allure now. 

I finished my quick visit to Boston and found myself back on the turnpike driving through the Berkshires. The day was coming to its early close, and as I closed in on New York State a sudden series of squalls came upon us as such squalls in such places often do. Deciding to wait for a bit, I pulled off at the nearest exit in Lee, where the outlets had begun their holiday sales. The snow was coming down heavily, but there was light in the distance so I knew it wouldn’t last. Instead, the effect was thoroughly enjoyable. Some gift-buying seemed a festive way to pass the squall, and as I climbed the large hill where the outlets were nestled, it felt like one of those surreal holiday moments that’s part magic and part make-believe. 

The snow soon lifted, the clouds parted, and the sky lightened again. I caught these photos of a little crescent moon. A day that begins with a bald eagle and ends with a crescent moon is a magical day indeed. 

Living in upstate New York has one very important perk: the proximity to the Beekman 1802 Mercantile. From our very first visit to the satisfyingly-sleepy village of Sharon Springs to visit the American Hotel almost ten years ago, we’ve been fans of the Beekman Boys and their goat milk soap. In all that time, their goat milk empire has expanded to encompass quite a few more items, such as body lotion, lip balm, shampoo, conditioner, and an entire arsenal of skin care products. That’s only the start – check out their edible artisanal items as well, including my absolute obsession – Goat Poop. Trust me, just put it in your mouth and prepare for divinity on your tongue. 

Last week I took a vacation day and made the quick drive to Sharon Springs early in the morning, when I officially gave in to the start of the holiday shopping season. As I took the first turn onto Main Street, the Mercantile was the first thing I saw, resplendent in neon twinkles and dripping with starlight in the form of mirrors that covered the entire building. Holiday magic was in full effect, and I gave in to the glory. 

Taking my time in each room, exploring all the goat milk items (and so much more) I found a quiet and enchanting way to start my holiday shopping. Luckily for the rest of the world, you can find all their items online at their website, but for this November morning, when the world felt a little dreary and downtrodden, I found joy and exultation in the quick drive to the Mercantile.