Shedding the vile traits of perfectionism is no easy feat. It takes work and energy and repetition to undo years of self-inflicted damage, and mental gymnastics to switch up a train of thought that long ago left the station. Yet that’s precisely what I’ve been learning to do, and a major part of that is owning up to mistakes, learning from them, accepting they will happen, and not letting them completely derail the day.

“I am glad that I paid so little attention to good advice; had I abided by it I might have been saved from some of my most valuable mistakes.” ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay

To err is human, and before I even get to forgiveness, I have to learn to be a better human. One thing at a time. This is challenging enough on its own. To sit with your missteps, and to be ok with what you have done takes time and practice. I’ve only been working on this stuff for a couple of months, but I’ve felt a change already. It’s not always comfortable, and some days I think I’ve tried to do too much, but still I keep going, still I hang on and do my best. I fail a little, and then I try to do better. The overall arc is upward.

“It is a mistake to look too far ahead. Only one link of the chain of destiny can be handled at a time.” ~ Winston Churchill

No one is right all of the time. No one is perfect. Humans are messy creatures – mentally, emotionally, physically – we stumble through our lives barely keeping our shit together. Even the most seemingly flawless person has their faults and imperfections. Usually we love them more for it, as it’s difficult to relate to someone who comes close to perfect.

“It is always a mistake to be plain-spoken.” ~ Gertrude Stein

So let this post be a reminder, mostly to myself, that we are all no more than human. We will not achieve the perfection that is unattainable based on our inherent natures. We were not designed to be without flaws. They make us who we are – and they make us better.

“Some of the worst mistakes in my life were haircuts.” ~ Jim Morrison

Pink and purple tissue paper lines the floral-festooned box. Buffeted by feathers and deconstructed silk flowers, with perhaps the faintest wisp of Tom Ford’s ‘Lavender Palm’ Private Blend (and just the slightest dash of ‘Beau de Jour‘) it makes a formidably frivolous collection of little gifts and letters. A few books line the bottom of the box – including one on ‘Peaceful Places in Boston‘ – which actually includes a pretty comprehensive list of some wonderful spots.

This is a collection of frivolity assembled for Alissa’s daughter, in the hopes of sending some cheer in the midst of this desolate winter. Mostly it’s empty prettiness, but there’s a value in being pretty if you know not to take any of it too seriously.

I realize this is small and meaningless recompense for the loss of a parent, but it’s all I have to give. That and the promise that she has one more person watching out for her, wherever her adventures may lead.

Posing like a fucking boss, this is my tribute to the Super Bowl, and I’m taking the lazy way out with a simple Monday morning recap. A lot of stuff went down this past week, most of which didn’t make the blog. Read between the lines of this recap, and strike a muscle pose. Like a meathead. Wearing spectacles. (Oh, and follow me on TikTok or whatever you’re supposed to do there – I’m on it, I’m into it, I’m TikToking for you – for all of you!)

Hello again, Earl. (That’s Mr. Grey to you.)

It’s been three months since I had any booze and, oddly enough, I don’t miss it one bit. 

Winter pining.

Andy’s ongoing Audi adventure.

It was a snowy winter morning in January, and that has made all the difference.

I took Suzie to see Matthew Bourne’s ‘Swan Lake’ this past Friday and it was just as enchanting as I remembered it. (Suzie may have fallen asleep at one point. And she left a huge mess on our table at the Russian Tea Room, but I told all the servers who stopped by who did it.)  

Dreaming of Ogunquit makes the winter bearable. 

Speaking of winter, we have entered the final full month of the beast, and though it’s a leap year it’s still a short one. 

Chicken soup for the soul and the stomach.

Baring my ass for the Dolly Parton Challenge, like you knew I always would. 

This Super Bowl mocktail is counter-programming at its best. 

The limited selection of Hunks of the Day included Taylor Swift’s beau Joe Alwyn, Charles Michael Davis and Patrick Mahomes. (More to come this week, I promise!)

How is it that Dolly Parton has not played a more prominent role on this website in all these years? Who doesn’t absolutely adore Dolly? As part of the gay population, I believe it’s in our handbook that loving Dolly Parton is one of the mandatory non-negotiable requirements. A minimum qualification if you will. Luckily, it’s always come rather easily to me, having been raised on her movie ‘9 to 5’ and its accompanying fingernail-clicking title track. Plucky, kind and fabulous beyond all get-out, Ms. Parton has defied the limitations of country music, and even more impressively the rules of the entire entertainment industry, surviving and thriving in a successful career that has spanned decades, without ever really going out of style.

Case in point is the viral Meme seen below, where she cheekily shows off the various versions of herself that she would use for social media and immediately rendering her relevant once again. It is as much a showcase for her chameleonic nature as it is for a modern-day flourish of social media savvy. (For the record, I’ve never been on Tinder or Grinder or a 3-ring Binder, but oh if these social media sites had been around during my dating hey-day… actually, I think we all – the whole lot of us – offer unending gratitude that they weren’t. Think: hot mess minus the hot.)

PS – Follow me on TikTok under ‘alanilagan’ and be in awe. I just love the TikTok! 

Mercifully, this is the shortest month of the year, and as the last full month of winter that is a blessing without disguise. It seemed like we should present something fiery for February, and these scarlet berries mirror the cardinals that occasionally visit the yard and spruce things up with their fiery plumage. Though the gardens remain in a state of slumber, the cardinals and finches have been providing bits of their colorful carriage, creating temporary gardens whenever and wherever they alight. The blue jays add to this as well, mimicking the blue of the sky, etched with their striking stripes and patterns.

Even the squirrels want to get in on the winter show, traipsing along the fence and digging in the snow for a stray acorn or errant nut. Their gray coats are better at blending into the surroundings at this sad time of the year, but their actions are just as interesting as they are in the sunnier months.

In our home, we are already getting antsy for spring, which still feels a long way off. We’ll see what the groundhog has to say tomorrow, not that it’s wise to put anything of substance in that one’s paws. Winter will take as many weeks as it takes and there’s nothing much to do about it. The best thing is to find its rare pockets of beauty and enjoy them as they come.

There will be another spring, and another summer.

The sun will shine again.

The pool will beckon.

The gardens will bloom.

For the spring…

for the summer…

Maybe even for the fall.

But fear not, for we are on the right path.

One more day of January, then the shortest month of the year will begin, the last full month of winter. 

The light, then, is up ahead.

Bundle up, the cold is not over, but hope…

Hope is still warm.

No winter can ever take that away.