This is Jesse Metcalfe, newly of ‘Dallas’ fame, formerly of ‘Desperate Housewives’ fame, neither of which I ever watched. Well, the original ‘Dallas’, yes. But that was then and this is now and my tastes have evolved from the fake dramatic to the real dramatic (hello ‘Real Housewives’).
There has been much criticism of Mr. Metcalfe’s “man-boobs”, which I find rather distasteful. The criticism that is. I haven’t tasted the other.
Check out our other Shirtless Male Celebrity posts here.
After a certain point, when the danger of frost is in the air, I give up on the blooms of the season. There’s too much trouble and heartache that comes from investing in a fresh head of hydrangeas that stubbornly refuses to hurry things up before they’re wilted by a ruthless night of freezing temperatures. That said, I also appreciate when a fine bloom has not yet gone to brown shriveled mush, as was the case with these examples in Boston. I am especially enamored of the lime green zinnia below. Zinnias hold a childhood place in my heart, but for some reason I rarely grow them. Next year I may try my hand at them once again. Next year may be an old-fashioned return to the riotous annuals of the past. Next year… is a long way away. We better just enjoy the show now at hand. When it comes to annuals, nothing is promised.
The same holds true for the fading moonflower seen below – at least I think it’s a moonflower. I passed it at the height of the day and couldn’t be sure. I like how it’s just slightly past its prime, curling in on itself and leaving the world with the barely-glimpsed artfully-recoiled curvature of petals in decline.
On this Thursday morning, the Madonna Timeline returns in a major way. From her epic album ‘Like A Prayer’, one of her most powerful songs… A song about childhood, a song about growing up, a song about learning to forgive, to forget, to lose, and to let go… A song about what it’s like to be a parent, and what it’s like to be a child.
If you never wanted to live that way,
If you never wanted to hurt me,
Why am I running away?
To the outside world we all grow old. But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other’s hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time. Â ~ Clara Ortega
In the terror that accompanies the start of Fall, before you’re ready to give in to the darkness, before the leaves get torn from the trees, before the final warmth of the earth departs for the Winter, there are nights that offer respite. Dusk can still be blue, and the moon can still light the clouds.
 A couple of good friends and a bottle of Jameson. On nights like this, there is nothing to do but embrace the new season. Summer has been spent. It’s time to move on. The pool days have come to a close.
And so we retreat to the city. The best time of the year to be in the city is the Fall. Spring carries its own enchantment, but when the gardens are going to bed, the city sends out its strongest clarion. We would be foolish not to heed it.
Based on the following two photos alone, I’ve got to give the slight edge (one might even say ‘rim’) to Channing Tatum – though in real life Mr. Manganiello is probably slightly more fit/built. Truth be told, neither of these guys is my type, or what I usually find attractive in a guy, but they each have their fervent admirers, so this double-billing goes out to them.
Above, Mr. Tatum; below, Mr. Manganiello. Who brings up the back best?
In late afternoon, the sun streams into the bedroom, through my toes, warming the extremities. Over a sisal rug, I dangle my feet in the light. All of these little piggies went to the market, and now they are tired.
The last time I recall being on a trip with my brother was in 1996, at our cousin’s wedding in San Diego, CA. That fateful journey was recounted in a Madonna Timeline here, so I won’t rehash what’s been written. This past weekend, we went to Boston together, and it was a welcome reminder of fun family times, and a reconnection with my only brother.
We reminisced over a soundtrack of 80’s tunes ~ ‘Eye of the Tiger’, ‘Who’s Johnny’, ‘We Built This City’, ‘Forever Your Girl’ – and talked about the movies that meant the most to us ~ ‘The Goonies’, ‘Adventures in Babysitting’, and ‘Star Wars’. We spoke of sleep-overs and tree forts and Huey Lewis and the News. As the goldenrod bloomed along the roadside, and the first leaves started turning their warmer shades of rust and red, the kickoff weekend of Fall glowed brilliantly on the horizon.
My brother and I are about as different as two brothers could possibly be, but that has never hindered our enjoyment of each other, and it’s strange that we don’t hang out more. Life has a habit of getting in the way, and we’re both busy guys with lots to do, but every once in a while it’s good to reconnect and get away. I don’t think we realized how much we needed it.
The picture above stands on our fireplace mantle in Boston. It was actually taken on that San Diego wedding trip all those many years ago. As we settled in for the weekend, I looked at it and remembered. It was the night I came out to my brother. It was the night we had our first adult conversation. In many ways, it was the night we grew up. Now, all these years later, I am struck by how much, and how little, we have changed.
It’s impossible to plan the best weekends of our lives. They just happen – unplanned, unmoored, unintentionally – and that’s part of their charm. If you’re lucky, like I was this weekend, you realize it as it’s unfolding, and you cherish each moment, savoring each bit of company. You can always measure how good it was by the sadness that the Sunday morning of departure brings. With heavy hearts, we trudged back to the car for the ride home, content only with the solace in not having to make the trip alone.
While one of Rob Gronkowski’s naked shots was already posted here, it’s Sunday Football time again, with an AFC Championship Rematch that finds the Patriots facing off against the Ravens. The Pats go in with one loss, and haven’t lost two in a row in quite some time… that’s about all I got from the ride home with my brother – more on that later. For now, enjoy this bit of uncharacteristic sports talk and footballer nudity.
Fresh off from my serious moment with Anderson Cooper, I thought it would be a good time to get a little silly with the Silver Fox, and bring back these photos of a shirtless Mr. Cooper getting a (badly-needed) spray tan. It’s always good to see that those tight t-shirts he sometimes favors for location shots aren’t lying about what’s beneath them. Dude is built.
Looking as if it were lit from within, this dahlia’s coloring, and the late afternoon sunlight slanting through it on a Fall day in Ogunquit, combine to create a spellbinding effect. I grew dahlias for only one year as a child – the endless waiting for them to come into bloom was too much for my impatient heart to take, along with the fact that at the very height of their bloom the frosts came to take them out. While they have some of the most beautiful flower forms and colors, they are just too high-maintenance for me. I would never have the discipline to bring in the roots to over-winter, nor do I want to be bothered with the staking that the tallest and most striking ones require. But sometimes, at this time of the year especially, I’ll eye the neighboring yards with envy as I see the spectacular show that these plants save for the tail-end of the season.
These were taken in the varsity locker room during my younger years as a starter clean-up pitcher for the Boston Bruins. I kid – I was way better than varsity. In honor of Sunday/Monday football (and I’m told Thursday too in the early days of the season), I offer you a few ridiculous football-themed shots. The paraphernalia involved in this sport is insane, and what I have on across my chest is probably the thong of some 300-pound he-man. Oh well, sometimes you just have to pour yourself into tights, lace it all up, and hope for the best. Wait, are the Bruins even in the American League West?
From fried calamari to this insanely good pasta dish, a good Italian dinner never fails to put a smile on my face. With a couple of glasses of wine, this is my idea of heaven on a Saturday evening.
