Author Archives: Alan Ilagan

The very first time Andy met my parents he was wearing a t-shirt that said ‘GET WICKED TONIGHT!‘ on it, in bold yellow letter across a blue background. In his defense, he didn’t anticipate meeting my parents that day. In my defense, I didn’t anticipate he would be wearing such a shirt ever. We both learned something that day. Tomorrow night, we are literally getting ‘Wicked’ again, as we take in an early showing of the eagerly-anticipated ‘Wicked’ movie. 

It will be a proper date night for us, one that rekindles the very first time we saw the show in New York. It was November, about a week or two after it opened on Broadway, and its original stars Kristin Chenoweth and Idina Menzel were both on. It was a magical moment, and in the ensuing years we’ve returned to the stage production several times. 

Tomorrow night, the movie version directed by Jon M. Chu and starring  Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande flies into theaters, and we’ll be there defying gravity with all the other fans. 

Ever since Twitter (X) was taken over by evil forces, my interest there has markedly waned to the point where I’m on the verge of leaving. I’ve been on Threads, but they seem to have the same censorship issues that plague artistic souls. Last week I joined BlueSky, which feels like a breath of fresh air. Of course all social media sites eventually seem to become victims of their own success or failure, so who knows how long this BlueSky moment will last. For now, I’m taking it all in and enjoying it. 

It also points to the fickle, capricious nature of social media these days. While Twitter crumbles under the proliferation of hate, hypocrisy, and misinformation, and FaceBook and Instagram crumble under their own hypocritical issues of censorship and rampant misinformation, BlueSky comes along to fill the void in human decency and simple sanity. Am I invested in any of these time-killers anymore? Not really – I copy and paste my blog posts into all of them, and go on my merry way. 

My BlueSky handle: @alanilagan.bsky.social

Helmed by one of Andy’s magical peonies, this post comes as we pick up any pieces left from the full Beaver Super Moon. I channeled the moon’s lively energy for a Friendsgiving weekend with Kira, and with an eye on a positive outcome, we managed to survive. More on that a bit later – for now, the typical Monday morning quarterbacking in this week-in-review.

Technicolor glow.

Shirtless mens and one nude dude.

Sexual activity my ass.

Irate Irene.

People ahead.

Holiday shopping season.

Shades of brotherhood.

The man in your office.

A little ghost.

Shades of uncle-hood.

Fairy tale nursery rhyme.

Dee and the geese.

Shades of magic.

When the roses bloom…

Leading up to gratitude.

A magical flower from a magical man.

A visitor cloaked in red.

Fall light, elusive and dwindling.

Not the sun.

Faded beauties among the fallen.

More fallen beauty.

Shades of music.

Our lone Dazzler of the Day was Sexiest Man of the Year John Krasinski.

Piggybacking on last night’s fallen post, here are a few more victims of the wind and cold we’ve had over the last week. There is still some color on the ground, though it’s fading quickly. With our relatively dry fall, the leaves have been crisp and brittle of late, crackling beneath the feet in satisfying fashion. It makes quietly padding through the forest impossible; there would be no way to hide with so many audible clues and hints. Mother Nature only disguises her own trails, never yours; she owes no allegiance or cover to you. 

It was supposed to be a stunning year for fall foliage, but I wouldn’t really know, having willingly missed much of it in the daze into which I’ve intentionally sunk. It’s difficult to be mindful when there are so many things to be worried and concerned about – and then I remind myself it is precisely at such times that is is so imperative to practice mindfulness. And I try again, walking amid the leaves, pausing to bend down and study any that call out with their color or design. 

From here on out, strong and saturated color will largely be drained from the outside world. Browns and grays and faded greens will be all that is left. For now, finding solace in the fallen leaves will have to be enough. 

Careening toward the shortest day of the year, light will be fleeting and elusive for most of our waking hours now. When it’s out and about, I try to take advantage of it, at least once a day. It’s easy to get bogged down in a work day, or any day for that matter, when we sink into familiar ruts and dim passageways, finding our way in the dark because was are so accustomed to it. That’s how I usually pass through winter. But to find or make the time for a little light appreciation is important. 

I find myself very affected by the dwindling light, and so I compensate in other ways – with lots of candles and electric lights thrown on at all times of the day. A little utility splurge for mental health is warranted these days, and if it eases the pain of winter to come, let us have the indulgence. 

Soon all these leaves will be gone, even the last few tenacious stragglers on the mighty oak, always the last to leave, and then all will be barren until the spring. There will be beauty then too, stark and bare, but beautiful still. 

Andy’s been hearing and seeing the cardinals around the backyard the past couple of weeks, but I have been missing them. The other day, however, I was sitting at the dining room table working when a small spot of red appeared in my peripheral vision, and I found this cardinal sitting in the dogwood tree outside our front window. It stayed there, perched quietly on its branch, looking around and surveying the surround area. There was a strong wind that day, but it stayed stoically there, its feathers slightly ruffled in the moving air, but otherwise entirely unbothered. 

It was such a happy scene, and I immediately thought of Dad, who hasn’t been on my mind as much lately, but whose presence seems to be returning for the run-up to the holidays. Maybe he’s sensing my disconnect from family, and this is his way of saying he’s still here. Watching the cardinal, I feel a sense of peace in this discontented world. The cardinal turns and looks at me for a moment, then is gone. 

This weekend marks a planned Friendsgiving celebration with Kira, kicking off our holiday festivities with one of my favorite events. We started this little tradition a few years ago, on a whim, the way we start our best traditions. Back then, as now, we convene in Boston and do one night at home, then one night out for a fancy dinner. It’s usually a toss-up as to which I like better. Here’s a look back at some previous outings of thanks.

Friendsgiving 2023: 

   – Part One

    – Part Two

       – Part Three

          – Part Four

             – Part Five

                 – Part Six

                     – Part Seven

Friendsgiving 2021:

– Part One

   – Part Two

Friendsgiving 2019:

    – Just One Part