His smash hit ‘Until I Found You’ harkens to an earlier era, while maintaining the sentiment of love that spans all the ages, and that song alone is enough to earn Stephen Sanchez this Dazzler of the Day crowning. But don’t stop there – there’s a whole new album of material ripe for your listening pleasure, so check out ‘Angel Face’ and all the other offerings on his website here, including upcoming tour dates.
Note to self: stop trying those fancy napkin folds that look so simple and easy when other people post them online. They’re never going to happen for you.
This Thanksgiving post is about gathering the emotional and mental fortitude to find gratitude, as that is what will be more trying this year. Of course there is always something, often many things, to which we should offer gratitude and appreciation, and I’ve always been relatively decent about expressing that. This year, however, things feel a little off, as it’s our first holiday season without Dad, and out of our old home, and all the change is proving difficult. The holidays have, up until now, provided the one moment we usually managed to come together.
And so, a different sort of gratitude – and mostly this Thanksgiving is about giving thanks to all the years our family had in more or less intact form. It doesn’t end, it only changes and evolves. When I think about the upcoming holiday season, I expect it to be different, and sadder, and maybe all the other changes will do us some good. In many ways, I didn’t anticipate being bothered or upset by the holidays, because in truth my Dad didn’t play a big role in the mayhem of this most wonderful time of the year. I think he was sometimes more comfortable going to work or OTB than being home without those outlets being open for a few hours. Not that he didn’t enjoy his family, he simply didn’t know what to do with himself other than watch television or peruse his racing forms. In the last four or five years, his health was such that he didn’t participate much at all, which was just an exacerbated extension of the slight disengagement we all knew and accepted, and which I understand more and more the older I get.
For me, Thanksgiving hasn’t been the same since 1990, which is when our family and the Ko family spent the last holiday season with all of us still alive; Suzie’s Dad died the following spring, shifting our lives irrevocably.
In 2001, Andy’s Mom died on this day, adding another layer of loss to the holiday, and changing our lives again. The holidays grew a little sadder, a little lonelier then, especially for Andy.
But on Thanksgiving, we’d still get together, and my Dad would still carve the turkey, and it was the one thing that seemed to stay the same until a couple of years ago.
I will miss that, I will miss his perfectly-carved turkey, and I will be thankful for all those years we had, while looking for the ways our family might move forward.
Here’s wishing a Happy Thanksgiving to you – embrace your loved ones who are here, and hold tight to the memories of those who are no longer with us.
The Beekman Boys have brought a sense of peace and calm and, of course, kindness, to this blog, and to the rest of the world, since they first moved upstate and started their goat milk business. This year they posted this Kindness Cookie recipe, which I recently made on a dark Sunday afternoon and evening. It filled the house with a heavenly aroma, and looks to be one of the workhorse cookie recipes that forms the base of any Christmas cookie platter that wants to stand slightly apart from all the others.
This recipe uses only dark chocolate, but gives some extra sweetness with its diced dried cherries – a sweetness that is not cloying or too much (as sweetness tends to be at this culinarily-perilous time of the year). It’s a subtle shift into the next level of sophistication, as far as chocolate chip cookies go, and it’s a lovely treat to make in the next few weeks. Try it and see how you like it, then spread the joy among all your neighbors.
The most important post of the year is at last going up: my Christmas Wish List!
Just kidding.
After being ridiculed and lambasted for still posting a Christmas wish list this far into my forties, I’ve decided that maybe the cynical and the grown-up among us are right, and the idea of me being high-maintenance, exacting and hard-to-please needs no additional fuel. I used to think that making a list with the precise links and sizes and colors of things I wanted was the easiest way for people to figure me out, but it’s time to see how well my friends and family have been paying attention. Because gift-giving is relatively easy when one listens and engages with their loved ones.
I’m looking forward to all the pleasant surprises and unexpectedness that this season might bring, and seeing just how well people care to know me!
This evergreen stands in the yard of a neighbor, and is a focal point in our backyard view. It rises high above all fences and electrical lines, and it surpasses houses and antennae and weathervanes (yes, one of our neighbors has a weathervane). Its trunk and branches provide resting spaces and respite for all manner of creatures – squirrels, chipmunks, and birds of all kinds. I see them traveling along the wood like its some super-highway for critters.
Right now, it dangles pine cones like it’s decking itself purposefully out for Christmas, and in the early-afternoon light of a sunset (too early for my preference) they glow against a cloud-scattered sky. Nature’s own way of presenting herself will always best any tree-trimming we humans might attempt.
Billy Porter’s latest album ‘Black Mona Lisa’ is giving me some much-needed life right now, and his ferocity will need to be enough for the two of us. With its dance-vibe brilliance, and the hefty power of Porter’s own historical journey in the entertainment world, ‘Black Mona Lisa’ is a testament to his own past – informed by the halls of dance from the past five decades – with a gorgeous and defiant charge into the future.
Check out Billy Porter’s crowning as Dazzler of the Day here, and then visit his enchanting website here.
Here’s an early holiday present for those who indulge in scrolling through shirtless male celebrities (in case you missed this shirtless post or this one or this one.) Lots of clickbait there, and here, as we celebrate these opening shots of Shawn Mendes.
He’s been here before in his underwear and in dazzling form out of his underwear.
Fresh off a super-successful spin in the film adaptation of ‘Red, White and Royal Blue’, Taylor Zakhar Perez sparkled in his Dazzler of the Day crowning.
Joining Perez in that fun rom-com was Nicholas Galitzine, who shined in his own Dazzler of the Day post here.
Luke Evans is no stranger to celebratory shirtless posts, as evidenced by this speedo post or this tighty-whitey post.
David Beckham has his own category in these parts: see the tail-end of it here.
The buns keep getting hotter the further down you scroll, so feast your eyes upon those of Chris Salvatore who is selling out his popular calendar thanks to shots like this.
The happy ending of this post belongs to Glen Powell, who already showed off this naked shot in his Dazzler of the Day post, but no one’s going to mind revisiting such beauty.
The most anticipated film of the holiday season is, for me, ‘Saltburn’ starring Barry Keoghan and Jacob Elordi. The latter has already been a dazzler here, and this post marks Keoghan’s turn as Dazzler of the Day. He first captured my notice in a mesmerizing turn in ‘The Banshees of Inisherin’, one of my favorite films last year. ‘Saltburn’ is getting similar buzz.
While things were kept sunny and cheery on the blog, this past week in real life was wretched. Across the board, it sucked, even while dinner and movie nights with Suzie and Skip respectively helped keep the tears at bay. Maybe it’s just the realization that with mid-November comes the irrefutable fact of winter up next, and after a summer that left such a chill in our hearts, I’m not sure I can handle what winter will bring.
Driving home from work the other day, just as the sun was going down (because that’s what pushing time back does to us) I saw this strange color variation in the sky. This is not, despite what it might look like, a picture of the sun and surrounding clouds – this section of sky was a good distance away from where the sun was shining, so I’m not sure what was going on in the atmosphere, or how this might be explained because I’m not Bill Nye the science guy. At any rate, it made me stop in my non-stop day, and in that brief arrested state I wanted to weep a little because some days feel dark no matter how bright the sky may be.
My grief of late seems to be taking a consistent and all-pervasive state of agitation and annoyance, when it doesn’t have me simply sleepwalking through the average day. The latter has always been worse than the former for me: I’d rather be agitated and annoyed than apathetic and completely devoid of engagement, but that’s where I’ve been finding myself. It’s not a pleasant place to be. When I was younger I would see people with the sort of vacant and unfocused stares I find myself giving out now, and back then I’d wonder at why they had given up. I can understand a little more these days, and that’s somewhat frightening. Maybe I am just getting old. Or older. More on that in one of the links below.
As for this upcoming entry to the holiday season proper, I may just decide to go full Ebenezer Scrooge without the redemptive ending. Not to worry, as the great Alexander Dumas once wrote, “I’ll bury my grief deep inside me and I’ll make it so secret and obscure that you won’t even have to take the trouble to sympathize with me.” On with the weekly recap, albeit abbreviated!
Open 9 to 5, what a way to make a living.
A fall fragrance puts things back in the saddle.
Glen Powell got all naked and nude for Men’s Health.
I’ve still never seen an entire episode of ‘The Simpsons’.
Is it snarky if it’s true? Or is it snarky because it’s true?
After everything else that went wrong this week, I also got assaulted at Supercuts while getting a fucking haircut.
While the world burned, our Friendsgiving weekend in Boston (which now feels like it never even happened at all) filled the posts here, giving the impression that all was well. Those fun days got recapped in this post, so I won’t bother you with them all again.
Now, who the fuck is ready for turkey?!?
This post will aim to recapture the collection of Friendsgiving adventures that I just had in Boston, while giving one sneak peek of the holiday fun to come in that grand city. Up first, is this rose bush, still blooming in the middle of November, and still giving joy to passers-by like myself who pause to stop and take in its beauty. Any flower brave enough to put on a show at this late date earns my admiration and respect, and roses in November pack a different kind of punch.
My reunion with Kira provided the perfect spot of warmth as we kicked off the holiday season. Our little Friendsgiving tradition is somewhat new, and not quite an annual thing. When we can manage it, we manage it. This year was one of the luckier ones.
It began with this preamble, which also featured roses, because everything comes around again in the end.
With a backing soundtrack by Shirley Horn’s ‘The Main Ingredient’, our Friendsgiving weekend got off to this delicious start.
This will mark the first holiday season without Kira’s sister and my Dad, and the last year of hurt and misunderstanding paved the way for healing and solace.
Mysteries of fall were in the air, and the strong but welcome presence of sunlight also made for many shadows.
We found pockets of peace and calm, the way we always do, and celebrated our reunion at a dinner at Reunion.
Our wild nights ring differently now. We wouldn’t have it any other way.
A proper Friendsgiving brunch brings a few friends together.
All in all, this was a lovely reconnection with a dear friend, fittingly made during a Friendsgiving weekend. I don’t know what Thanksgiving with the family will look or feel like, and so I am especially grateful that this Thanksgiving with chosen family has happened.
We’ll end this with a special sneak-peek of my partner for the upcoming Holiday Stroll weekend in Boston, and beyond that is our almost-annual Boston Children’s Holiday Hour (which will very soon be excising itself since the children aren’t children anymore). This may very well be the last of its kind, and we will be endeavor to make it that much more special because of it.
I hate getting a haircut. Ever since my grandfather died on the day I got a haircut in high school I’ve had an aversion to it, which seems at odds with the high-maintenance/perfectionist persona I pretend to peddle. I also never take it too seriously, and thus far it has always grown back, so I’m perfectly content to run into Supercuts once a month and hope they do a quick ten-minute job just cleaning up the back and sides.
Yesterday morning, I worked up the courage to get a cut before the holiday season begins in earnest, and found an available stylist who eagerly took me into his chair, beginning with some small talk on what my weekend plans were.
Then, the assault happened. As chunks of gray hair fell about my shoulders, this person chose violence:
“I hope my hair comes in like yours when I’m old.”
I managed to temper the shock with a bit of genuine laughter as he hurried to try to put it a better way.
“I meant the gray looks great! I just mean I hope my hair looks that good when…”
“When you’re old,” I finished when he paused. “Yeah, I got it.”
Out of shock, exasperation and the realization of reality staring at us both from the mirror, I laughed. Richly and genuinely. In self-defeat, self-acknowledgement, and self-effacement. After I paid for his services and unsolicited commentary, he had the audacity to give me his business card.
And that was the day there was blood on the barber shop floor.
The USDA just updated the plant hardiness zone map, and after being a Zone 4 boy since my twelve-year-old self wrote a fan letter to Lee Bailey, our area has shifted into… Zone 6a?! Don’t tell me global warming isn’t real – this is insane. While I’m thrilled to be able to possibly grow some new species, I’m dismayed and disturbed by this undeniable trend.
Of course with my luck, I’ll deck the yard out in Zone 6a survivors only to have a deep freeze defy the new zones. Call me Elsa and let it fucking go.
Sunday dawned in sunny fashion – more spectacular than November has any right to be – and we had an early brunch date with two other dear friends – Anu and her daughter Riley (my spirit animal). It was a last minute addition to our Friendsgiving weekend – and a very happy one at that. Riley was looking at three of the schools that I considered in my college search: Boston University, Boston College and Tufts. A legendary trajectory indeed. We had a lovely brunch at Mooo… in Beacon Hill, taking our time to catch up before sending them on their way to BC.
Kira and I walked back through the Common, but turned out of it before the Public Garden. The sun was strong; we’d been lucky with the weather the whole weekend. I’m not sure our hearts could have withstood any rain or clouds. Sometimes the universe eases up when you need it the most.
Here is some music fit for a Sunday morning stroll, as much as for a Saturday night lounge session, and one of the only artists who can span such a marvelous spread is Shirley Horn, who has provided the soundtrack for this entire Friendsgiving weekend. Here’s looking at you!
We stopped to look in at the recent-revamped Four Seasons Hotel overlooking the Garden. Designed in whimsical fashion by Ken Fulk, it looked like a promising environment for some future holiday fun. We still have our Holiday Stroll reunion to look forward to in a couple of weeks – something we haven’t been unable to pull together since before COVID. How much has happened in those years… and how much we still had to share…
Suddenly it was a mad dash for Kira to make her train in time, and I was back on the Massachusetts Turnpike, already missing my friend. A Boston weekend had ended much too quickly. The memories, and these posts, will have to sustain us.
As we near the final portion of our Friendsgiving weekend adventure, we return to the preamble that started it all: a pause in our walk back from a reunion dinner at Reunion. At this juncture, Kira and I had made our way into the sumptuously-lit environs of the Mandarin Oriental on Boylston. The lobby was adorned in its customary elegant splendor, with a fireplace flicking white flames into the air, but stepping outside of tradition, we bypassed that space for a quiet and or intimate second floor sofa, where we took a load off our feet and paused for brief respite.
A slow jam then – and super-slow at that – to commemorate this stop. Obscure hotel hideaways are my favorite part of any city adventure. There is something intoxicating about being half-hidden from the world while sharing a moment of rest with an old friend. It always goes to my head.
Our wild nights now consist mostly of such moments, followed by the hurried scuttling through windy weather to reach the warmth of the condo. There we light candles, listen to Shirley Horn, sip tea, lounge languidly on the couch, and give silent thanks for not wanting to be wild anymore.
This particular night was not that different from any other in our long history of Boston nights – we followed the tea with a viewing of an old movie – ‘Mildred Pierce’ – and then it was time to sleep. Shirley sang us through to the morning, and the melancholy arrival of Sunday, always too soon.
