When your entire democracy hangs in the balance, as it does this election year, it’s more important than ever to rid this country of the Trump-supporting Republicans who are throwing away the very tenets of what made this country great in service to Donald Trump, an alleged pedophile and someone who has already been found liable for sexual abuse and battery. One of the few Democrats to fully fight against the Trump regime’s awful policies and hateful rhetoric, Jon Ossoff is also up in a tough re-election bid in Georgia, where he’s established himself as a candidate for the people. Better than that is his BDE (IYKYK) and swagger as he pummels Trump with the truths that the GOP and much of the media chooses to ignore or pretend away. Ossoff earns this Dazzler of the Day as a rare politician who speaks the truth and continues to work for his constituents in the face of all that the Republicans are trying to take away from us. Check out Jon Ossoff’s re-election website here, and let’s hope that Georgia does the right thing this fall.
Richie and Austen are often along for the ride They don’t say a lot, but they know every inch of this drive If these trees started talking, I bet you they’d only talk shit ‘Cause we never do anything real, we just talk about it Endin’ of August, the bugs are just starting to die All the neighbors are voting for someone who wins every time And I thought getting older meant knowing it’s too late to try And I tried getting sober, I swear I did better this time
Whoa, everything you see out here will die Ooh, it’s a matter of time ‘til it’s Fields of ice and reflector lights ‘Til it’s our town And anything you need I will provide A ride home or an alibi I know the traffic light You can speed right by ‘Cause the camera’s down And I follow New York plates to the county line I ignore ‘em when they wave on 89 The minute that September hits I’m going off my medicine, oh Late August angst, and a pointless night Ooh, and the feeling of being alive For the first time, in a long time
On the eve of their arrival, I step onto the back patio. It’s raining, and I don’t mind it. The tomatoes have started to split, and I hurriedly harvest a few, popping them into my mouth and savoring the summer moment. Pausing to take it all in, I listen to the rain, remembering a similar rainy day in which I sat beside a patch of trilliums earlier in the spring. That feels far away now – so much can happen in a single summer, even when nothing seems to have happened.
Oh we’re a drawing of a place We’re a photo on the fridge They mined copper for years Oh, there was nothing left to dig It’s a place where most kids Just grow up and have kids, who grow up and have kids Who build homes for the rich, oh
A pesky mosquito threatens the peaceful moment, and even that doesn’t annoy me the way it usually would. I wonder why I care so much less. I wonder why I don’t care much at all. End of summer blues, probably. They’ll be chased away once Ann and Missy arrive – friends always to the rescue.
Whoa, everything you see out here will die Ooh, it’s a matter of time til it’s Fields of ice and reflector lights ‘Til it’s our town ‘Til it’s our town ‘Til it’s our town And it’s ours now It’s ours now
Some plants just inspire happiness – and this brilliant begonia has always been one of those plants for me – from its fiery color to its elegant cascading structure. This year I only ended up planting one of these, but it’s filled out its pot admirably, backed by a chartreuse sweet potato vine to set off its gorgeous flower hue. Some years when it gets particularly wet and cool, these have failed, rotting before they get a chance to really shine. Happily this wasn’t one of those years, and the sun and warmth have given it prime atmosphere to show off.
Our potted patio plants always come into their own right about now – reaching maximum size and floral impact – and so long as I keep up the fertilizing and watering, this incredible show should continue until the frosts begin. Let’s slow our roll in these latter days of August.
Winning two consecutive Tony Awards for Best Featured Actress in a Play in 2024 and 2025, Kara Young holds a special place in theatrical history, having been nominated for Tony Awards in four consecutive years, and winning two Drama Desk Awards, an Outer Critics Circle Award, and an Obie Award. Add to those more prestigious honors this Dazzler of the Day crowning, and you have the brilliance that theater-goers have known about for quite some time.
Fresh heirloom tomatoes, served with mozzarella and Balsamic vinegar, and topped with salt and pepper and some fresh basil from the garden, form the simple but potent lunch treat on the plate before you. This is how summer celebrates itself, whether we decide to pause for its joy or not; the ingredients are there at our fingertips, it’s up to us how and whether we will employ them to supplement the beauty of a day. That’s enough of a mid-day post for now.
When I find myself in times of trouble, such as in these emotionally-charged waning days of 50, I have a secret weapon that has always saved me in just about every tricky situation. Looking back over the many years, I’ve come to realize that my secret super-powers have always been my friendships. Whenever I’m in the midst of doubt or difficulty, when the world has done me a wrong turn or someone has hurt me intentionally or unintentionally, my friends never fail to assemble like an avenging source of support and emotional sustenance.
It’s not usually an explicit action in response to a cry for help; my habit is not to cry, and my history is not to ask – yet somehow they all sense when I need a friend.
At those times, we’ll schedule a dinner out, share a phone call at the end of the day, or simply volley some texts back and forth that are enough to make me feel better about the world and my place in it.
As I navigate these treacherous final throes of 50, when mid-life malaise and crisis threaten to derail what personal progress I’ve made over the year, I find my friendships coming to a rescue I’ve only just realized I need – and for that I am grateful.
Anyone who’s operating under the title of The Naked Florist demands consideration as a Dazzler of the Day, and when I checked out the impressive background of New Zealand’s Naked Florist named Steve, he immediately earned his crowning here. Making use of fresh and local flowers, along with an eye for the seasonal and sustainable, Steve also imbues his work with a personal slant and an embrace of inclusivity to provide beauty for all. Check out his website here and the self-written bio that goes into the journey that got him where he is now:
Kia ora, I’m Steve, a 40-something kiwi born and bred in the Waikato. From an early age I have loved gardening – growing my first veggie patch when I was ten years old! Growing things is in my DNA – it teaches us so many things. It is also such great therapy. After spending twenty plus years in corporate roles I resigned my job in 2023 to take a career break and re-think my future. During my downtime I enrolled in the NZ Certificate in Floristry (L4) to scratch my long held itch for being a florist. Combining my extensive amateur knowledge of gardening, and the creative component of floristry I started to plan a future where all my passions could come together: gardening, floristry, environmental responsibility, empathy and shared positivity. Out of all this, The Naked Florist was born!
There’s a lot to unpack in that single sentence, and I’m not going to dissect it with my nonsense, other than the links contained therein. It probably means something different for you anyway, and that’s the beauty of sparkling writing.
Almost every August there are storms that arrive in the middle of a sunny day, often resulting in rainbows that fill the sky and thrill the senses, if you’re lucky enough to be out and about. Such was the case as I was enjoying a cup of peppermint tea and a sudden rainstorm ravaged the area around Professor Java’s. Waiting out a spell of rain in a cafe is one of life’s greater solaces, so I hunkered down until the sun came back out. The brief pause was worth it, as I managed to capture this rainbow in the parking lot – a happy reminder of whatever rainbow belief system you have (I tend to err on the side of science, but I’m old-school in my preference for facts and scientific evidence). If there is something more meaningful about the rainbow to you, have at it.
Additional proof that rainbows often inform this blog:
As the true villain of the magnificently twisted thriller ‘Obsession’, Michael Johnston delivers a chillingly nuanced performance that grounds the film in its human footing while never straying from the atrociousness that ends up enveloping everyone. For giving such villainy such a pretty face, Johnston handily earns this Dazzler of the Day crowning.
Forget ‘The Office’ – someone should do a series called ‘The Elevator’ because that’s where all the crazy shit happens. Elevators are the great equalizers of an office building.
All I have for this blog post is a provocative title, no racy finger-pricking scandal to accompany the pretty pink photos of the titular rose at hand. It’s up to the reader/viewer to fill-in-the-blanks, which always makes for a more graphic depiction of scenarios – your sick and sordid imagination fills any holes more insistently than some blatant nudity or sexual situation I might posit or deposit here.
Now I’m just playing with words and teasing easy targets, that’s when it’s not going completely over heads. People either get too much credit, or not enough – too few are the times when people get precisely what they deserve. Justice and comeuppance are the stuff of fairy tales – that’s why our darkest and most base tendencies love a fairy tale. Real life proves far more problematic – but a rose is still a rose, and a rambling blog post won’t make one damn difference in this wayward world.
Next week at this time I’ll be turning 51, so this marks my final week as a 50-year-old, and the end cannot come quickly enough. Two words can sufficiently sum up what 50 was like for me: holy fuck. We now continue with our weekly blog recap in case you missed any of these swell moments… I wish I had.
Verbena bonariensis (I love that name) holds its purple heads high above the garden for a significant swath of summer. A favorite of pollinators, it brings the bees and the butterflies to the yard, and a welcome airy and vertical element to the garden plan, forcing an informal cottage charm to the most formal of proceedings. Known commonly as the purpletop vervain (almost as nice as its scientific name) its color echoes a cross between lilac and violet in hue – remnants of a spring memory happier and more hopeful than the typical latter-half-of-summer fare on display now.
Happening upon a planter of these downtown, I’m inspired to consider a wilder and less structured garden vision for next year. Poppies and cornflowers and hollyhocks come to mind, a cottage garden of sorts being the likely setting for my winter dreams, and the color palette being what you see here – lilac and pink and all sorts of pastels to keep things cool and soft for whatever the next summer throws at us. A happy and heartbreaking couple of words: next summer.
