Category Archives: General

“Why are there so many songs about rainbows, and what’s on the other side?”

Whenever I see a rainbow – or even the hint of a rainbow as seen in the sky here – I think of this song, and my heart feels a little fuller. Fuller from happiness, fuller from hope, and fuller, yes, from a tinge of sadness. It happened as I was making a few errands last week. Picking up some items for the twins and our next adventure, I was pulling into a parking lot (the sky is always best seen from a parking lot) when I spied this little rainbow peeking through the clouds. The day had been wild with storms and uncertainty, the kind of atmospheric mayhem that summer sometimes unleashes after days of heat and humidity. An unsettled atmosphere always unsettles the heart, and the rainbow has traditionally been portrayed as the balm at the end of it all. 

It reminds me of an August day on which I was traveling the New York State Thruway in the year of the Royal Rainbow World Tour – 1997. I finished up the last few stops and sailed along as a magnificent rainbow took the remaining rain and clouds and produced a visage of beauty. It spanned the horizon in front of me, stunning in its breadth and intensity, and I took it as an omen that I was exactly where I supposed to be. That doesn’t happen often in life, particularly in the life of what was then a newly-turned-22-year-old just barely embarking upon his life’s journey, but I felt it. That rainbow reached around and framed the vision of my future. I had no idea where I was going, but I throttled ahead without looking back, ever reaching for the rainbow that was elusively ahead of me that day, and every day since. 

A day spent poolside is usually a good day, and as today’s temperatures look to soar again, here’s hoping for another good day. We had a marvelous weekend spent swimming and ducking in and out of air conditioning – the very best sort of summer weekend to have, when reading and meditating formed the bulk of work and chores to be done. On with the weekly recap, as we pause for a deep breath before doing it all over again. August continues unabated…

Once upon a time in your wildest dreams… summer burns music into the memory. 

Preparing the summer way is surely one of life’s greatest pleasures. 

The aforementioned pause of August.

An anniversary dinner in Albany, proving that the heart’s desire may indeed be found no further than one’s own backyard. 

The hunt for baby formula is the latest, and possibly greatest, craze in which I’ve taken part. 

My dear friend Kira made an all-too-rare trip to Albany to visit us, and it was a grand time. 

The fabulous Queenie in all her bejeweled finery. 

Sharing cocktails has been replaced by sharing a meditation with a friend, and life feels more full because of it. 

A lone cucumber rises in the face of attacks and odds. One must admire the perseverance.

A quietly unremarkable Sunday night blog post, as one does in these parts. 

Dazzlers of the Day included Beyoncé and Bradford Shellhammer.

Low rumblings of thunder sounded off and on all day, so when night fell and the thunder ceased, it felt more remarkably quiet. Then the crickets began their nightly concert, and even though the attic window was closed off to the heat, I could hear them chirping. This is the sound of August – one of the happiest sounds in the world. 

On this Sunday night, I am posting this in real time, not my customary practice. It carries the capacity for danger – misspellings and mistakes – and the possibility of the imperfect, something I’ve been trying to embrace. A pair of air-dropped photos, taken from our ride back from Amsterdam, embody the end of our day. It’s still summer light, and then still warm even after the sun goes down. August is ripening gradually, the way it does in a good year. 

Taking a deep breath to prepare for the work-week ahead, I sit in the attic by myself, and in silence – the crickets my own soundtrack, soon to be joined by the hum of the air conditioner in the window, which finally decided to kick on even at this late hour. We are in the full embrace of summer and enthralled to be here. Being present is another thing I’ve been working on, and it’s becoming a good habit, especially in the sunny season. 

Whispers of fall are present if you are looking closely. I spied several clumps of goldenrod in tight bud, and our ostrich ferns have rounded the corner into copper – they lasted amid all the heat we’ve had (thanks to some rigorous and regular watering), but it’s finally proving to be too much, and they’ve already put in a solid season of bright chartreuse – it feels right to give them a break, let them burn into their coppery finale. Some years I will cut them back to give their space a cleaner look, but they ay still have a few weeks of foliage left, and if we get some cooler temperatures they may hold on yet. 

For now, for this Sunday evening in early August, I write out this little blog post, saying not much of anything but reaching out to anyone who wants to read something of nothing before we go back into the real world on Monday. 

Let’s keep the summer going… for now. 

This is Queenie Abramo, resident Queen Bee of Southbury, Connecticut.

She’s so cute I almost don’t mind her usurping my title. 

She’s been a highlight of many a visit to Southbury, including this last one that was such a wonderful respite in July. We must plan another one before the cold weather comes back. 

Kira joined us for an idyllic summer overnight, which went by much too quickly, as summer is wont to do. She arrived before noon, and we promptly made our way to the patio and pool, where we lounged in silly sundresses and posed like silly people. Kira is usually game for anything, and we relaxed into the easy banter that comes from knowing someone for twenty-four years and counting. 

Snacking on white bean dip and chips, fresh cherry tomatoes from the garden, and a fizzy lemon mocktail, we lounged languidly before a relaxing dip in the pool. The sun was peeking out from the occasional patch of clouds, and the air was hot – all of it making for ideal swimming pool weather. We stayed there for quite some time as I tried to help Kira advance in her swimming lessons. We made a bit of headway, and after exhausting ourselves we headed upstairs to the attic for a brief meditation. 

Kira loves a pasta dish, so for dinner I made this recipe of Cacio e Pepe – simple and tasty and surprisingly substantial for summer – along with a side plate of tomatoes, mozzarella, balsamic vinegar and fresh basil leaves. A day of swimming always leaves one extra-ravenous, and food tastes better when one is ravenous. 

We descended to the cool space of the cellar, where we watched ‘Swept Away’, mostly for the beauty summer scenes. It was better than I remembered it. Spent from the sun and heat of the day, we slept hard, and the next day we did more of the same before she departed and the week wound itself up again. It was a beautiful visit from a beautiful friend – one that we promised to make happen again in the fall. 

When my future sister-in-law and mother of my Godchild texts a request to find some elusive baby formula, you drop what you’re doing and make a few stops to see what can be done to see Jaxon Layne through the next week or so. 

Once upon a time, I would have put forth the same effort in the hunt for some exotic whiskey or rare gin; this is a much happier search, with a much happier ending, and there’s a beautiful comment on personal evolution somewhere in that. 

(By the way, when did this shit become so expensive? This was almost half a bottle of Tom Ford cologne! And it doesn’t smell half as good…)

After visitors, our home feels quieter, smaller, emptier. Andy is a relief at such times, the last bastion against the possibility of loneliness, something I haven’t felt in quite some time. And it’s not something I necessarily feel right now, but still… echoes of friends and family who have graced these halls reverberate in the mind. This has been a good summer in that regard, and as August begins, the halfway-pause is at hand. 

Ominous signs of Halloween have already started appearing in stores, and back-to-school stuff has been there for a while. Any day now I expect Christmas crap to line the shelves. It’s all too much, too soon, and so I step back into the house, into the quiet, and into the present moment. 

My meditation practice continues, a helpful way to ground each day, when being busy, even with happy events like reunions with old friends, seems to detract from the focus on the serene. A balance must be struck. A summer must be appreciated.

Preparing for visitors is one of the great joys of my life. Difficult truth be told, in the past it was sometimes even more preferable to the visits themselves, but that was before I stopped the big parties and focused on the ones who mattered most. These days, it’s an exercise of pure joy, the rekindled ecstasy of living in the moment-before-the-moment-of-arrival. A breathless anticipation that approaches grace and sets me at ease with happy hints of hope and possibility. I’m allowing myself to feel that again. 

An armful of gladiolus blooms, heavy and weighted with colorful promise, is gently dropped on the counter as I fill a favorite vase with water. An attic loft is made up for the next visitor, branches of a coral bark maple (happily in need of pruning just at the right moment) standing tall and bringing a bit of the outdoors inside. 

I text my friend that turn-down service will be available upon request, and send her the picture below. Happy host = happy visit. 

This Monday morning post for the first day of August will be performing two acts: the first is our typical Monday recap of the week that came before, and the second is the first post for the month of August. Summer requires doubling up on tasks to make more free time for others, or for simply taking in the summer days before they go away. 

July was a banner summer month – it felt like a return to the fun and jam-packed days pre-COVID and pre-adult responsibility. I’ll pack that all into our summer wrap-up later in the season – for now, just a quick nod to the past week, and the past month, and a moment of appreciation for all the sun and fun we’ve had of late. 

August 1st marks the start of the final full month of summer, and while I caution everyone not so sleep on September as far as summer goes, I did feel the very first inkling of a shift in atmosphere as my friend Kira and I sat on the patio the other night, and a breeze passed that whispered of cooler nights. Soon, the crickets will begin their tell-tale chirping, and I’ve already seen the flower buds of goldenrod, still coiled in tight bud, but ready to brighten the day with their yellow blooms. For now, and only for now, I will pause to breathe in and breathe out the wonderful July, and open my arms for whatever August may bring. On with the weekly recap…

Imitation sunshine, for those rainy days when the real thing eludes us. 

Cool shades, bro.

The glory of a summer morning classic. 

Don’t worry, bee happy.

A letter to my brand-new Godchild. 

Seashore memories bound in stolen stones. 

The utter mockery of this daiquiri. 

Familiar angels: a summer weekend in Connecticut brings sun and fun. 

A fresh summer snack of simplicity. 

Petunias in black and white shouldn’t work as well as this.

Sundae on Sunday.

In the words of Blanche Devereaux, “Waterlily…”

Dazzlers of the Day included Lucas Kunce, Lee Pace, and Charlie Puth. 

So many things seem to reference ‘The Golden Girls‘, and for gay men of a certain age that show has come to embody a more comforting and happy time. Whenever I would find myself worrying about something or troubled by the general state of worldly affairs, I would find a re-run of the show and instantly be set at ease. 

Now, whenever I hear someone mention a waterlily, or even when passing them while driving past a pond, I remember this scene. 

The dunes of Provincetown already feel far away, as if our magical time there was only a dream, much like many days this summer, which has blessed us with a number of happily notable moments. Yet I know our time in Provincetown was real, and I know how enriching it was for our souls, so I’m recounting the posts I wrote here, and feeling the collection of stones in my hands, the ones I procured at the shore to remind me that it actually happened. 

Sitting in the shell with which I collected them, these little beach stones sit in a special place in our attic, in the very room where JoAnn now stays when she visits. It ties everything together – past and present, friendship and love, beauty and nature. It’s the perfect embodiment of our time at the dunes – and a lovely keepsake for such a treasured memory. I will revisit these again when the summer departs and the long stretch of winter begins. 

Waiting for the Breach – Part One

Waiting for the Breach – Part Two

Waiting for the Breach – Part Three

Waiting for the Breach – Part Four

One of the coolest tricks of the garden is the way it can sometimes create a mood or feeling through its use of colors and shades. Case in point is the way warm colors and cool colors work to set the place on fire or douse it in metaphorical water. The little annual blooms seen here do the latter, calmly lowering the temperature we think we are experiencing with the cooler end of the color spectrum. 

Gardens of white and silver do similar magic, their calmer hues lending a cooling aspect to the day and night. 

At the other end are the bright oranges and reds and yellows that light a place up, setting ablaze the day with matching fire and pyrotechnics. The cup plant right now is accomplishing that, with its fireworks that burst forth as high as the garden goes. Some scarlet petunias are lighting up its base too, and together with the orange butterfly weed, they make their own heat and fire. 

The garden is wonderful in all ways. 

Much has happened in the previous week or so, and this blog is playing catch-up while real life bounds ahead, rushing and speeding along through a summer that has proved sunnier and happier than man in recent memory. If daily concerns and happenings have been keeping me more occupied in living than documenting it, I’m not apologizing for that. Still, it’s good to pause on what may be a stormy Monday to look back and honor what has come before. In that spirit, here’s our weekly recap to start another cycle of summer fun. 

It began with the persistence of the petunias, because summer demands its star performers be stalwart and resilient. 

Filling my cup again.

Summer turns to high.

The magic of the rebloomers.

Twenty-two years ago Andy and I met the old-fashioned way – at a gay bar. 

It’s been 1000 days since my last alcoholic drink. 

A new Provincetown adventure began, this time on the dunes.

Time by the sea is always soul-nourishing. 

When that time is shared with loved ones new and old, it’s even more magnificent. 

The magical balm of the home at the edge of the world. 

Dazzlers of the Day included Linda Eder, Beau Mirchoff, Stallion Fabio and Florence Welch. 

Can it be called sobriety if one was never quite an alcoholic in the first place? 

That’s a big question, bigger than the scope of a single blog post like this.

Personally, I’m calling it such, as this marks the 1000th day in which I haven’t had an alcoholic drink, and 1000 days of sobriety sounds more thrilling than 1000 days of not drinking. 

I’m also open to the fact that while I may not have been a raging alcoholic, it was one of the off-shoots of the path I was headed down a number of years ago, a path I once glamorized and embraced and perhaps exaggerated in the way that we want our artists and creators to be dramatically suffering. When the real world creeps in and shows you what true suffering and loss is, one doesn’t feel the need to pretend as much. 

While I may have had my last drink on October 26, 2019, the trajectory I had been on in the year or two prior to that was one of slowing and cutting back drastically on the thing that once felt like a normal part of life. In the years leading up to my quitting, I’d found that alcohol no longer brought the same thrill and enjoyment it once did – mornings spent quietly hung over felt regretful, while the actual moments of drinking felt more robotic and a force of habit, as I slowly came to the realization that I was merely trying to attain some semblance of comfort in an ill-fitting world. It was partly a way of dealing with events where social anxiety ran high (and for me that was almost all the time) and also of dealing with a world where we all have to go it alone. Elaine Stritch once explained that she would take a drink before going onstage because it was scary going out there alone. I felt the same way about life. No matter how many friends or supporters you may have, no matter how married or partnered up you might be, and no matter how many people genuinely and unconditionally love you, we still go out into the world alone. All of us. And that’s daunting. If I once needed a drink to feel ok about that, I can forgive myself for it. 

When I figured some of that out, however, the need for alcohol instantly left my body. It wasn’t difficult to stop cold turkey, and though it felt somewhat foreign and strange 1000 days ago, today it feels easy and unremarkable. The ease with which I was able to do that without withdrawal was a lucky thing. Maybe it meant I wasn’t truly an alcoholic. Maybe I was an alcoholic who found the right combination of tools to stop. Everyone wants to label everyone else, myself included, but that rarely helps. I’m humble and smart enough to acknowledge that alcohol wasn’t helping, and it was healthier to simply stop. 

Overall, the last 1000 days have been calmer and happier than many other 1000-day stretches in my life. Considering the insanity of the world at this time, I’ll chalk it up as a great success, and one that I’d like to continue.