Perhaps one of the greatest gifts during this extended period of isolation is the gift of new knowledge.
In place of my Starbucks stops, Andy taught me how to make coffee.
I feel like such an adult!
Relax, it’s only decaf.
The last thing this world needs is me on caffeine.
Especially in isolation.
Our house would fall down.
Or explode.
Or both.
From there, from so far away, from so long ago, how did we arrive where we are today? I don’t often dwell on such a question, because there’s no point in doing that. In fact, it’s usually detrimental to everything else going on, or trying to go on, around you. No use dwelling on the how or why, but rather on the way forward. When going through hell, keep fucking going. Isn’t that what Jesus said? Well, if he didn’t he should have, and he certainly led by example. Although maybe the Easter season isn’t the best time to be like Jesus. I mean, Jesus.
Anyway, being more aware of the present makes it easer to find a smile, no matter how long ago it was that you truly felt like smiling. Being present, inhabiting the moment, and focusing on the here and now is the best antidote to a worrisome future. We do not know what tomorrow may bring. We never know. But what good has it ever done to worry and fret about what may or may not be? Even if the worst were to happen, why waste more time being affected by it? Que sera sera; what will be will be. The world suddenly shifts into a more easygoing stance when you realize that.
With that mindset, it’s quite simple to enjoy the day a little more. So go ahead, spray your favorite perfume or cologne, even if it’s the last spritz in your favorite bottle and there’s no more being made. Breathe it in and live in that moment. Happiness is of short supply these days – take it where you can find it, and take it then and there. Don’t save that dress or jacket for a brighter day – this is that day, this may be as bright as it gets. Bask in how happy it makes you feel. Indulge in these little joys. We are afforded just so much for just so long.
And smile. Even if you’re not feeling like it, smile. Studies have shown that the mere muscle action related to it triggers a response no matter how dark or dismal the hour. It makes sense – if your body and brain are accustomed to feeling happy when you smile, why shouldn’t a smile work the same way in reverse? I’m going to try it. You should too.
Don’t think about it, don’t wonder about it, don’t even tentatively plan it, just do it.
The time to be neighborly is right now.
The time is always right now.
There will never come a day when being neighborly isn’t welcome.
That may feel more difficult to accomplish now that we are all socially distancing, but perhaps this is the time to work even harder to be a good neighbor. A good universal neighbor. The internet has made everyone a neighbor to everyone else. That comes with its own demons, but for now let’s focus on the angels, and being better neighbors.
The Beekman Boys reminded me of that, so I’m going to use this post to celebrate them and all that they do. Not just for their upstate New York neighbors (Hi, Neighbor!) but for all the neighbors around the world. The earth has become one big neighborhood. Maybe that’s the best way to think about the world right now. And neighbors help each other out. That might be as simple as staying home and staying healthy for the greater good of the world. That might be sending a letter to someone you haven’t talked to in a while. It may even be something as simple as a text message checking in on one of those social butterflies you always assume is fine because they are always surrounded by friends. Even the most popular among us may be feeling a little lonely these days. Reach out to everyone you know, just in case. A friendly hello is never unwelcome.
Above all else, keep taking care of yourself. Everyone is stressed out, and it’s easy to get bogged down by the nightmare unfurling around us. Step away from the television, put the phone down, turn the laptop off, and indulge in something that makes you happy. These days that’s a long hot shower for me. An order of Aloe and Iris soaps arrived from the Beekman Boys this week, and that’s my plan for the days ahead. Coupled with some meditation, some Ella Fitzgerald, and some candlelit evenings, it’s how I get through the week.
It was a squirrel that alerted me to the action in the front yard. Digging in the soil near the dogwood tree, the gray thing’s movements drew my notice to a pair of cardinals that cavorted beneath the dogwood’s ever-expanding branches. I saw the bright scarlet streak of the male then noticed the duller female a foot or two to his left. He reached down for a seed and brought it over to her, and for one quick moment it looked like he had kissed her on the beak. Allow me this brief moment of anthropomorphic romanticizing, because what the world needs now is love, sweet love. On a dreary, rainy Sunday morning, this simple interaction was worthy of gratitude, if only for having seen it.
It was a thrilling exchange, even if he was just offering a bit of food. I called Andy over and we watched them cavort for a bit. Andy said he thought they might be getting ready to start nesting, as their feathers were starting to change. The squirrel scurried away, his job done. When you have love in your own front yard, why mourn for not being able to go anywhere else?
How does one reconcile the spiritual world with the material world? And what’s someone supposed to do when they’ve spent the majority of their life as a proper material girl? I’ve struggled with this dilemma for far longer than it might seem, and though I’ve literally just framed it as such, it’s never been that much of a struggle. It gives me pause, and that’s always a good thing. Whatever it takes to check oneself.
While stuck at home, I signed up for a free online course that Yale University was kind enough to offer. ‘The Science of Well-Being‘ is reportedly the university’s most popular course, offering a supposed path to a greater happiness in one’s life. I’m on week two of the lessons, and they’re telling me that it’s wrong to place faith in material items bringing me happiness. Well, duh. I mean, on some fundamental level I think we all know that. It’s how most of us were raised ~ one of those trite truths that is ingrained in our heads like a nursery rhyme, something that we generally all think we know, but that course is teaching me that maybe I don’t know. Or rather that I do know, but it’s not enough to know. We can know facts to be facts, but that doesn’t mean the sensible action or reaction will result. The human mind is trickier than that. On week two, it was waking me up to the idea that we have certain expectations of what we think will make us happy, but the reality is that those items have been proven not to lead to any discernible increase in genuine happiness.
Just before the lesson wound up, I was making the argument in my head that, hey, maybe I’m one of those rare exceptions that can genuinely be made happy from a new Tom Ford Private Blend fragrance, when the professor listed that very notion on the Powerpoint and I was caught with my pants down.
Maybe there is more I can learn, and perhaps more importantly unlearn, from this course. There are a lot of lessons going on right now. And just in time.
It’s Monday, people, wake up.
For those who are still working from home (as we all should be as much as possible) it may be hard to differentiate the weekdays from the weekends, but it’s important not to lose sight of time that way. Get up, take a shower, and above all get into something better than that ripped cartoon t-shirt and rumpled boxers shorts. I see you. And I don’t want to see you like that. On with a recap that will hopefully provide some escapism rooted in our grim reality. Come fly with me!
Spring popped up and looked around a bit.
Of course, it still snows in spring. Sometimes a lot.
May this corner of the internet provide you with a welcoming space.
Madonna’s ‘MDNA’ album, an under-rated one in my estimation, celebrated its anniversary.
Fashion will not die on this hill. Not while I’m around.
A song for days past and present.
How about these eggs? That icebox is too near!
This was #TheStew and while I didn’t exactly see what all that fuss was about, it’s perfectly delicious.
Spring stepped tentatively forward. Like all of us right now.
Copy and paste this, then post your own answers on your social media. I would genuinely like to see what others say.
There’s a crop top Renaissance going on in my house. And my house will remain private for this very reason.
A classic Tom Ford Private Blend whispers seductively in my nose.
Shirtless male celebrities took it off in service of this PSA.
This is the greatest pork chop recipe I’ve ever made, and I’m not a big pork chop fan. (I like mine pulled.)
Hunks of the Day included Max Souza, Bruno Duarte, and Anthony Bowens.
Because the world has gone Toxic and we need more Britney.
I’m slipping under…
Damn the damn Brady Bunch: ever since Peter Brady pushed ‘pork chops and applesauce’ into the pop culture lexicon, I’ve been unable to shake his voice whenever a pork chop comes into play. Today, however, I did just that, because this recipe turned out so well I couldn’t be distracted by anything else. If you’re looking for an easy but impressive Sunday dinner, look no further. It comes from that collection of 24 one-pot dinners that was recently in The New York Times. This one was Pork Chops with Feta, Snap Peas, and Mint. And that’s basically it. I didn’t expect something so simplistic to taste so good, but that’s the magic of the best recipes, and this definitely ranks up there with the best.
You must begin with a pair of bone-in pork chops. Season liberally with salt and pepper on both sides then sear them in a medium-hot skillet with a couple tablespoons of olive oil, 4-5 minutes each side, and absolutely do not touch them once they make contact with a glorious sizzle. Cover after both sides are done with their sear and cook on low for 3 minutes more, then remove chops to a plate.
Add four chopped scallions, 2 cups of snap peas, ½ cup of freshly-chopped mint, some red pepper flakes and a bit more salt and pepper and sauté for 2-3 minutes. Make room for the chops and nestle them back in so they are directly in contact with the pan again. Sprinkle ½ cup of feta on top (this is the very best part.) Cover and cook for another five minutes or so.
Carefully transfer the chops to a plate and let rest for five more minutes. Add the peas and squeeze some fresh lemon juice over it all, then top with fresh scallions and chopped mint. Again, I don’t know how it works, but it turns out delicious. And you’ve only soiled one skillet!
Marline posted this on FaceBook the other day, and while I didn’t have time to do it there and then, here it is with some answers that are longer than one word. Feel free to post it on your FaceBook page because I love reading these about friends.
You came in so quietly I didn’t hear you.
And then you changed so quickly with that weird snowfall, I didn’t recognize you.
And now you stall and pause in fits and starts and I’m already frazzled enough.
Still, you will find your footing and get into your groove, I have no doubt.
Well, I have my doubts. How could anyone not doubt everything at this point?
But I also have my faith.
It’s all we have.
And somehow, it’s enough.
It has to be.
Any weight I may have lost in the past few months is creeping back on thanks to Easter candy and isolation – a bad combination , especially when one has lost the stairs of the office and the mobility that previously allowed for such occasional indulgences. Now it’s non-stop indulgence and a sedentary lifestyle.
That Easter Bunny has never been a friend of mine.
And that icebox is too near!
Sometimes snow makes the world prettier than the sun ever could.
Finishing my first full day of working from home, I found a single note of solace in the way that the snowfall picked up as the afternoon wore on: it was not of any great concern to me – we had nowhere to go, and no rush to get there – and so I could embrace the moment, savoring the time – the hours, the minutes, the seconds – of the beauty before us. And so the snow fell, past the first day of spring, past the midday mark, showing no sign of letting up – and it was all good.
I opened the window to breathe in the scent of it. Our winter didn’t give us all that much this year, and surely it wouldn’t last. I worried for the early daffodils by the garage, but there was nothing to be done. It was too late to bring in the buds, so they would have to fend for themselves. Gardening remains a ruthless game, even and sometimes especially at this early stage of the season.
Rather than intone rage and madness at the too-late-for-winter timing (we always get snow in spring – this is upstate New York) I instead chose to celebrate the beauty. As the light was fading from the sky, I watched as the snow nestled into the radial whirls of the Japanese umbrella pine. Somewhere in the distance a few birds sang, unseen and lending an enchantment they don’t usually conjure in the middle of winter. On this afternoon, their song melds nicely with the Japanese flute music that’s playing in the background.
Inside the living room, a stick of cedar incense glows at one end, tendrils of smoke curling gracefully into the air before dissipating with nothing but the sweet scent of cedar ashes drifting through the room. A fern arches its fronds over the edge of its ceramic pot, while a Norfolk Island pine extends its reach beside the couch – portending the green yet to come outside the window.
On this night, the sky is white and gray, before coloring the blanket of snow a deep blue. We do not know what tomorrow will bring. We never do. Yet at this moment, as the snow still falls and the light fades, the beauty outside is seen and felt from within.
Why do some of the prettiest little tea cakes turn out to be the least delicious? It’s as if some cosmic force decrees that in order to be beautiful, we must sacrifice flavor and substance. At least that was the case with a bunch of tea cakes I managed to buy before all hell broke loose in the markets. This little cake looks delectable, like something out of a fairy tale at the precise moment the protagonist was about to faint from starvation.
But the taste? Not at all up to the appearance. It tasted like a lie. Sickly sweet, like store-bought frosting from a can – that gross, manufactured essence of falsity. It leaves one gasping for a hint of something natural and real – butter or vanilla or, Jesus, even Crisco. Anything but the plastic-like putrid fakeness of something masquerading as food.
All that glitters ain’t gold.
Over the years, a few kind and perhaps overly-generous people have told me that this blog offers them some reassurance and escape in what feels like an ever-darkening world. Others have said I occasionally give voice to something they’ve also felt but never knew quite how to express or release. Those are pretty powerful gifts – not what I do here, but what those wonderful friends have expressed. They are gifts to my soul and I will always be grateful for them.
As for the purpose of this blog, which I’ve sometimes pondered over its seventeen years of existence, if it serves as a place of reassurance, escape, calm, entertainment, frivolity, amusement, or fantasy, well, I’d consider that an honor and a privilege. And if it brings a few of my favorite people together, either in stories or simply in having them mention that they’ve read something here, then I’ve done some small part in contributing to our community. I don’t take that lightly, and I hope you don’t find too much hubris in my admission that my voice is one that seems to matter to certain people, especially in times of uncertainty and fear.
The world definitely feels darker than it did a few years or even months ago. I can sense that. As much as I try to keep such somber thoughts on the outskirts of this silly space, they can’t help but seep into the overall arc of our journey here. That’s ok. I like to sparkle; I don’t like to sugarcoat. But for my own sanity, and my own enjoyment, I’m going to do my best to keep things welcoming and light here, accented by bright moments of beauty, riotous bouts of silliness, skin-baring antics of derriere-derring-do, and occasional passages of spiritual intent.
Whenever I pause and think about the purpose of what I do here, it always comes back to creating a cozy little nook of the internet that doesn’t scream or shout with effects or noise or bother, but one that invites the visitor in, welcoming you with a reserved spot on the couch or a leopard-patterned chair, where you can indulge in a cup of tea or a smart cocktail, and we can chat or simply sit in silence reading a cherished book. A place where nothing is forced or difficult, a place where a sense of peace and tranquility calmly floats through all our gentle actions, a place where we can simply be, a place where that is enough.
Come, sit with me for a while…
Considered by many to be her second divorce album (‘Like A Prayer’ being the first), Madonna’s ‘MDNA’ album, released on this date in 2012, is also considered one of her weaker efforts. I don’t agree with those assessments – this is a pretty kick-ass collection of songs – I just think it suffered from a poor choice of lead-off single, and Madonna’s own movie-focused lack of a promotional push. She gave it a Super Bowl toast and then retreated into movie and tour promos. The track-list is worth a revisit, as is the album overall, which finds her raging against romance while simultaneously reaching out for it, resulting in the very best kind of creative contradiction.
For me the trio of highlights are the exhilarating opening track, the pure pop perfection of ‘Turn Up the Radio’, and closing ballad ‘Falling Free’ which was helmed by ‘Ray of Light’ guru William Orbit.
