October 2013
Come back here this weekend for the annual jockstrap photo shoot. It’s always better when the Red Sox are in the World Series, so this year is a special one. Though I’m told the Cardinals are formidable foes, I’m going to have to go against Andy Cohen for once and root for the team that I’ve loved since 1986. Go Red Sox!
When the focus shifts, when the sea recedes from view, sometimes it is more beautiful. The blurred space that seeps into memory, that becomes memory, more vivid in softer relief, more resonant in dream-like form – this is how to hold onto things. This is the stuff of paintings. It is how we remember.
Like the perfect shore after a gentle tide goes out, what is left is fainter, more rounded, less jagged. The wind hasn’t quite carved it into crystal-clear sharpness, the edges have been blunted into undulating mounds mirroring the water that left it all behind. It is the image that lingers when you quickly blink your eyes shut. The mind still sees.
Here are some parting glimpses of our fall weekend in Ogunquit, where we took leave of the Beautiful Place By the Sea for another year. It’s usually one of our sadder departures, as we know we won’t be back until the spring, and there’s that whole mess called winter that must pass first. But the colors are rich, and we were sent off with the flaming beauty seen here.
This coming weekend marks the big Halloween celebration in Ogunquit, but they were already gearing up for it when we were there a couple of weeks ago. This fun display puts a witty and bewitching spin on our obsession with texting. My Mom asked me to take a few photos of the display, so these are for her.
Welcome to Mount Agamenticus (or “Mount A†which has an easier ring to it). One might have assumed that by our thirteenth year of visiting Maine we’d have climbed the mountain by now, but this is one of those somewhat-unheralded spots of enchantment that had previously escaped us. We brought my parents along for our virgin visit, and they were just as captivated by the views.
This area of protected land contains five watersheds that provide drinking water for southern York County residents, which would include Ogunquit, and includes over 10,000 acres of conserved wilderness.
We drove to the summit rather than walk, given the abundance of AARP-qualified peeps in the car, and the fact that the lone non-qualifier is a lazy bum. (That would be me.)
We walked around the summit area and took in the expanse of land around us, peering all the way into New Hampshire and out to the Atlantic Ocean.
Mount A was used for skiing in a previous incarnation, and some of the remnants were still around, rusty but intact.
I wish I’d had more time to explore the hiking trails on my own, and perhaps on our next trip I’ll have Andy drop me off at the mid-point and meet him at the top.
For now, I snuck away for the briefest of moments, to find hidden jewels like this dew-kissed patch of moss.
We did not happen upon any of the wildlife said to walk these lands, such as moose, black bears, or white-tailed deer, nor did we see any signs of the Blue-spotted salamander or Fairy shrimp. (Wait, what did you just call me?)
Also missing were any migratory sightings of peregrine falcons, bald eagles, or osprey. Perhaps they’ve already found warmer climes.
Regardless of the hidden wildlife, it was a great place to spend part of our last full day in Maine.
It took at least three men to position this 900-lb. pumpkin so it could be carved out and carved up. Once it was propped up properly, the artisans went to work on conjuring the face you see before you. In a few short hours it went from the slightly-warped ribbing that signifies a giant pumpkin to this funny facial facade filled with two endless rows of teeth. Onlookers (including my Dad, if you look to the top right of the photo below, he’s studying the progress from a balcony) stopped to watch the scene unfold from the Marginal Way.
Dad also thought to ask the carver for a few of the seeds, which were being dumped into a large garbage bin. Others followed suit.
We toyed with the idea of planting some, but there’s no way we have anywhere near the amount of room, sun, and heat required for such a squash to reach the monster proportions of something like this.
Besides, we’ve had trouble moving furniture that weighed half of this.
The final product, glowing magically in the cool night of an Ogunquit fall. He (or she) has got a great smile.
Somehow I’ve lost track of our Ogunquit recap, so let’s resume the telling of that tale, pictorially at least, with these photos from the Marginal Way.
Rainy Mondays get all the glory, but rainy Tuesdays are where the real heartache resides. We are accustomed to the brutality of an unforgiving Monday – it’s the Tuesdays that we don’t expect to be so tough. They sneak in, capturing by subterfuge, taking it all down because we already think we are safe. But we are not. Like the painful crack of the unexpected emptiness immediately after an airport good-bye, the decimated inconsolable grief that no curled-up fetal position can relieve, it’s a hurt that lingers, a hurt that stays.
The music is by London Grammar. The first song is ‘Interlude’. London calls to me still, I have not yet given up. I haven’t given up on a lot of things. The longing is still here.
The second song is ‘Nightcall’. Both are good for a foggy morning, or a rainy Tuesday, or a bus ride taking you to where you think you want to be.
It was the week that Zac Efron finally got officially naked. Everything else would pale in comparison, if it didn’t mean so much to me. Like a trip to Ogunquit, or a husband’s birthday, or a big Madonna milestone. But I’m getting ahead of myself, and there are links below that deserve their own line, more important and worthy than getting lost at the tail-end of some introductory paragraph whose only purpose is to maintain a streamlined design for this display page…
Our Ogunquit recap began here, continued here, and we’re not done yet. Stay tuned…
This walk inspired many things.
We saw a performance of Over the Rhine at The Egg. They are, quite simply, amazing.
My husband celebrated his umpteenth birthday.
Yes, it’s delightfully true:Â Zac Efron got very naked right here. Many guys will start toilet planking very soon, trust me on this.
Ben Cohen got back into his briefs too. Like I said, it was a very good week. (Oops, he did it again.)
The parade of shirtless Hunks kept things warm when the sun went away, even if it was a parade of one, Eoin Macken,
A very cool Straight Ally, and a very good friend, has a blog that’s worth checking out, and he’s going to contribute something here shortly, which is good, because his writing is, quite often, better than mine.
In honor of the Boston Red Sox and their entry into the World Series, I got back in a jockstrap (with new photos to come).
Finally, we are gearing up for a very special Madonna Timeline, and the first bit of promotional hype and hoopla is right here. Don’t you want it now?
The Boston Red Sox, whom I’ve loved since 1986 (yes, THAT World Series, remembered for Mr. Buckner’s bauble) just made it into this year’s World Series, so I’m going to have to squeeze into a jockstrap again in commemoration. You have your superstitious rites, I have mine. Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve joined in all the shirtlessness, and pretty soon it’s going to be way too cold for such nonsense.
As for the Red Sox, I still remember the first game I ever saw in person at Fenway Park. It was that same ill-fated year and they were playing the Blue Jays. At the time, I was more interested in Boston, and the paperwhite narcissus bulbs I just got at Quincy Market. They nestled in a brown paper bag beneath my seat. The game was good – they won! – but it didn’t captivate my interest like flowers or cobblestone streets. I sat with my Mom – my brother and Dad had better seats behind third base – it meant more to them.
I wouldn’t go back to see another game until my freshman year at Brandeis when it was part of the orientation activities. For that dismal game, when they were down by eleven points in the seventh inning, I left  a bit early, exploring Boston rather than witnessing another massacre. I’d like to go back and see another one through, but not until next year. (This time I’ll be avoiding Fenway when I’m in town next weekend. It would just be too much.) In the meantime, stay tuned for this year’s jockstrap spread…
Today is Andy’s birthday, and while it’s not as big as last year’s surprise event, a birthday is still a milestone worth celebrating. Of course, that’s not quite in Andy’s nature, so he’s requested that we do nothing today and I have no choice but to honor that. It’s certainly not how I handle birthdays, but it’s his special day, so whatever he wants goes. I’ve offered to cook the first dish I ever made for him, and I’ve picked up two small cakes (one carrot and one chocolate) for whatever mood he’s in. His gift is more utilitarian than extravagant, but that’s how he would like it. And there’s something to be said for the good people, like my husband, who don’t need a fanfare and spectacle of things to be content.
Happy Birthday, Andy ~ and many happy returns of the day!!
Continuing with the Straight Ally theme begun earlier today, here we have a bonus Ben Cohen shirtless post, for those who like to make their social messages a little (and a lot) sexier.
My friend Skip runs the very cool DaddyDadBlog.com, and he just posted a pair of posts that almost melted my icy heart. It’s his personal take on what it’s like to be friends with a gay guy, but it carries some universal truths, and some hilarious and touching moments. His blog is a must-read if you have children, or know any, as it feature the chronicles of his stay-at-home parenting adventures. (I have the good fortune of working with his amazing wife, so I get to see the best of both worlds.)
Skip has been a long-time friend of mine, and one of my closest straight guy pals. A more detailed and thoughtful summary of what he means to me can be found here, as the first in our Straight Ally series. Part One of his witty list of what a gay guy makes a good friend can be found here, and it’s a funny touchstone of some familiar (and true) common perceptions. Part 2, which delves a little deeper while simultaneously exploding stereotypes, is here. Together, they are a nifty summation of the highlights of a friendship between a gay guy and straight guy.
The best part about having a friend like Skip, aside from getting to see a grown-man climb aboard a kid’s ride, is having my occasionally-cloistered life enriched by someone whose passion and intelligence is rivaled only by his integrity. To that end, I’ve asked (begged) Skip to write a couple of guest posts for this blog, because in addition to being a great friend, he’s also a brilliant writer. Be ready to be dazzled. (And head on over to DaddyDadBlog.com for further brilliance.)
