Category Archives: General

Some of us have been waiting for Ryan Murphy to wow us again ever since the first, and best, season of ‘American Horror Story’ – and a few extra-critical folks have been waiting for such a feat since the first season of ‘Glee’ – I’m one of the former, and ever since Jessica Lange left ‘AHS’ it’s gone decidedly downhill. Murphy’s next entertainment salvo however, looks to be a doozy: a look at the legendary feud between Bette Davis and Joan Crawford, specifically during their time shooting ‘Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?’ Lange stars in the more difficultly nuanced role of Ms. Crawford – nuanced only in comparison to the ferocity of Ms. Davis, played by Susan Sarandon (the only thing that gives me pause right now). Murphy knows his way around a diva – let’s see how well he does with two.

The real deal, below.

This gratuitous throwback shower post is less about how young I once was and more about what atrocious shower tile we used to have. A remnant from the era in which the house was built, this pattern was designed to work with the avocado green that formed the color theme of the original master bathroom. If you have a nightmarish imagination, you might be able to conjure the shag carpet that was also part of the bathroom (because the most practical thing for a bathroom to have is shag carpeting). While our kitchen renovation was a marvel, the bathroom revamp was heaven-sent.

It is, oddly enough, one of my favorite rooms in the house, thanks to the extensive Tom Ford Private Blends collection on hand (among Hermes, Diana Vreeland, Byredo, Frederic Malle, and Jean-Claude Ellena). It’s the place where I open and close the day with a pair of showers, some of which turn into the closest thing I can muster for a spa experience. It also affords me a place to think about the day – whether it’s the one to come or the one that just went away. Rather than an in-between rushed space, it’s become a destination unto itself – for preparation, for relaxation, and for urination. I love a room that’s so multi-functional.

I am totally this monkey.

This monkey is totally me.

No explanation is necessary.

It speaks for itself.

We are us.

“The question is not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists will we be. Will we be extremists for hate or for love? Will we be extremists for the preservation of injustice or for the extension of justice?” ~ Martin Luther King, Jr.

“A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual doom.” ~ Martin Luther King, Jr.

“If any of you are around when I have to meet my day, I don’t want a long funeral. And if you get somebody to deliver the eulogy, tell them not to talk too long. Every now and then I wonder what I want them to say…I’d like somebody to mention that day, that Martin Luther King, Jr., tried to give his life serving others. I’d like for somebody to say that day, that Martin Luther King, Jr., tried to love somebody. I want you to say that day, that I tried to be right on the war question. I want you to be able to say that day that I did try to feed the hungry. I want you to be able to say that day that I did try in my life to clothe those who were naked. I want you to say, on that day, that I did try, in my life, to visit those who were in prison. I want you to say that I tried to love and serve humanity.” ~ Martin Luther King, Jr.

A brief thaw of milder weather, typical around this time in January, has left this past week feeling slightly out-of-whack. January thaws mess with the mind far more than Mercury in Retrograde or any full moon, and I wonder why more isn’t made of them.

The biggest news for readers of this blog may have been the big boxer-brief splash made by Joe Jonas in this sexy spread for Guess. It was so good I had to post an additional post of Joe Jonas in his underwear just to make it last.

The biggest news for the owner and writer of this blog, however, was this stunning photo shoot of Madonna for Harper’s Bazaar. It was perfectly-timed to coincide with the return of the Madonna Timeline.

The beauty, grace and power of the snowflake.

A naked Austin Armacost.

A Speedo-clad Trevor Donovan.

Backyard beauty.

Golden hour glamour.

Sunrise splendor.

The New Yorker.

Hunks of the Day included John Legend, Garrison Lambert, Douglas Booth, Ashley McKenzie, Drake Abshire, Romain Barras & Henry Licett.

Donald Trump is going to have his usual 6 AM Twitter tantrum when this gets released, as he’s done with the New York Times, Vanity Fair, CNN, Meryl Streep, and every other reasonable and intelligent entity the world has known. This perfectly encapsulates the multi-chinned cheeto-orange tiny-handed baby that’s about to take office. See, when you unleash a torrent of insults on everyone else you better have your own saggy ass covered. Get your diapers ready, Donald. Release your taxes. Fess up to your treason.  But keep your golden showers, because we don’t sex-shame anyone here, not for all the pee-pecadilloes in the world.

But this cup is just for me.

It’s my twofer, the big-ass cup I keep at my work desk so I don’t have to make a second trip to the kitchen for green tea. Whenever I feel a bit stressed out, I pause and realign my concerns. Swirling the teabag, I watch as the water turns a beautiful shade of rust. It is a meditative moment, brief but integral to the happiness of a day. These little things matter.

This will be a light day, pun-intended, as I may be away for the weekend. In the meantime, more photos taken in the golden hour, from my hometown of Amsterdam, NY. I like the fire hydrant, a small but potent focal point.

It’s not always apparent how much beauty is in your own backyard. Sometimes, though, the sun comes out in the late afternoon, and reminds us that there is indeed something special to be found there. I braved the cold for these shots in the golden hour, and it was worth the minor discomfort.

This is one of our hydrangeas, which came into its own this year thanks to the chopping-down of a cherry tree that had been sapping its water and light. It rewarded us with blooms that lasted well beyond summer, and it’s still supplying beauty to this winter scene.

It’s been going on since December 19, 2016, but this latest period of Mercury in Retrograde has finally finished, and none too soon. I don’t place enormous faith in such astrological phenomena, but whether it’s a psychosomatic issue or something more definite, things have definitely been slightly out of whack of late, and I look forward to a return to calmer waters.

Give me the moon over Mercury’s madness any day, or night.

A snowflake is a wonder of nature.

Each one is unique and different – a singular work of art.

While some snowflakes are delicate, many are formidable, having traversed countless miles in wind and icy temperatures. That’s what snowflakes like best: a challenge.

For anyone who’s ever doubted the power of a snowflake, witness the rage of a snowstorm, the weight of a snow-covered roof, the way everything stills when enough of them gather.

When snowflakes band together, they can stop the world.

Hello winter, we hear you loud and coldly. Message received. What to do when you can’t bear the thought of going out? Make a beef stew and a banana trifle and invite the people in. While I’m busy preparing those two things, be my guest, make yourself at home, and peruse the postings of the past week.

It began, as it often does, and ever should, with my naked ass. Follow that thing.

The return of ‘Downton Abbey’ – at least to our living room.

The return of ‘Sunset Boulevard’ to Broadway.

The return of Tom Daley in his underwear.

New Year’s Eve shenanigans

Family fun.

Moist, with nuts.

Oud Safir by Atelier.

A gratuitous Nyle DiMarco post.

A rainbow of eggs.

Wave it like you just don’t care.

Tablescape at morning.

Hunks on parade.

Tablescape at night.

The aptly-named Joss Mooney bared his bottom as the Hunk of the Day, followed by Daniel Lukakis, Patrick Henning, Dan Bevan and Daniel Newman.

It looks only slightly altered from how it looks during the day, but though subtle the differences matter. There is a warmer glow to the scene, a cozier aspect with the windows so dark.

Everything burns differently in the night, and in the winter.

The gardens went to sleep a long time ago, but some plants are still putting on a show. This sort of thing is too often discounted when most people plan their gardens. The winter scenery doesn’t disappear outside the window when you’re doing your dishes or sipping your morning coffee. On the contrary, winter reveals things that spring and summer and fall tend to hide.

Mostly it illuminates the structure of the place. The way that the branches of a dogwood cross and hold themselves in almost horizontal form, or the stalwart reeds of the fountain grass. The latter has held onto its fluffy seed plumes, and even in the roughest of storms it will hold onto such prettiness, usually all the way through to spring.

At first glance, it may look like just a stand of dead grass, but as seen here in the afternoon sunlight, it has the potential to turn into something majestic and wonderful. When given the proper lighting, a glorious azure background, and the unifying motion of the wind, it produces a spectacular show – one of the many secrets of a Northeastern winter.

They arrived on our front porch like some perfectly-hatched surprise Christmas gift – a dozen gorgeous eggs in a rainbow of shades. Our friend Scott recently posted a photo of his chickens on FaceBook, and I was so entranced I’m afraid I may have demanded delivery of their eggs, not expecting anyone to so graciously abide. Well, Scott’s a good egg, and oblige he did.

I brought them in out of the cold and promptly nestled them into a cloth-lined bowl for their portrait. Beautiful hues of brown and ivory and the palest blue played gorgeously against one another and with their earthenware vessel.

Newly-hatched farm-fresh eggs, he advised, didn’t always work best for hard boiling, so I’ve only been frying these up – and they have been heaven. I leave the yolk in decadently runny form, ready for that fork-piercing moment just before I run a piece of toast or kimchi fried rice through it. It’s a natural, sunny sauce that rivals any Hollandaise or Bearnaise. Many thanks to Scott for brightening our winter days.