It must have been 1996 or 1997 – and Suzie was at the Braddock Park condo in Boston for a holiday party. The walls then were an unabashed bordello red. A fringed lamp glowed low in a corner. Leopard-print curtains were held in place by floating gold cherubs, and a panel of purple velvet separated the red living room from the green kitchen. Over-sized Christmas ornaments hung from the ceiling, and colorful Christmas lights twinkled in the window. The atmosphere was cozy and quaint, even if it was the day after the party. I’d cleaned up the sticky floor earlier in the day – always the first task after a party, and things were finally getting back in shape. I opened up the early gift that Suzie left me – a VHS cassette of ‘Auntie Mame’ – and collapsed on the couch. The opening Technicolor glory and swelling orchestra music took me to another world.

I watched rapt – transfixed by the magic of Rosalind Russell and this over-the-top force-of-nature known as Auntie Mame – and the message of living life to the fullest, feeling not just okay with being different but embracing it, hit my heart in a way that would resonate forever after. Leave it to Suzie to find another movie that changed my life (after the darker foot-steps of ‘Harold & Maude’).

From that point on, ‘Auntie Mame’ was the movie I played before each and every holiday party, to calm the nerves and put me – and whomever else happened to be around – in a festive spirit. Mame’s exuberance and love of life was infectious – it was impossible not to be swept up in her enthusiasm. She was knocked around a bit (going broke, losing a husband) but she always buoyed back to the surface, spirits somehow held high by a supporting cast of off-beat characters that she considered family – because she had to: she only had her nephew.

Can we take a moment to pay homage to the fashion too? Auntie Mame is a thorough-bred clothes-horse. The hats/fascinators alone are a wonder to behold. The garments that go with them are just as head-turning. Even her robe – an extravagant ostrich-feather-lined (lined, not bordered – LINED!) defines luxurious lounge-wear. Velvets, silk taffeta, and crystal beading combine for one eye-popping outfit after another. With her ever-changing hairstyles and colors, she was one of the original chameleons, morphing from one look to another as her living room transformed with her current obsession. Such shape-shifting was an inspiration, but the core of who she was – a champion for the outsider – remained intact. That’s my idea of a role model.

A few weeks ago I recommended to Andy that we start working on moving some things out of the kitchen, as it must be completely empty by December 2, when renovations are set to begin. Why yes, that’s less than two weeks away, and this is the last weekend I’m in town. I’d do it myself, except nothing in the kitchen is mine. As expected, nothing has been done yet, but I’m actually not concerned. I’ve made it clear that I’m not moving things on the night of December 1, so if he wants any help with it he’ll do it sooner rather than later.

Personally, I’m of a mind to trash the majority of things – food and otherwise – as some things are simply never used, while others are surely well beyond their expiration dates (we have spices and canned goods from the 1990’s). It’s the most wonderful time of the year to clear out and consolidate.

As for planning ahead, the last time I recommended we pack up kitchen items early – when we moved into our current home in 2002 – Andy ended up packing things up at 4AM on the morning we were set to move. History has a way of repeating itself. (I wasn’t concerned then, and I’m not concerned now.)

I don’t smile enough in a lot of photos posted here. Most of The Pictures are brooding, contemplative poses, with downcast or searching eyes, avoiding the lens, avoiding the viewer, always separate, always distant. When I do smile, it is often fake, or forced, so when I get a fun friend like Kira to pose with me, you get a rare glimpse of what I’m like in real life. There’s no strict stringency to it, no precise perfectionism at work. It’s just me goofing off with a cherished friend. These are better than any racy underwear pics or naked skin shots. They are unchoreographed, unplanned, and caught completely on the fly. In this instance, we were on our way out to dinner, after a glass of wine. Kira didn’t realize that the camera was going to take more than one photo, so she broke away and started laughing when it continued to click. Which only made me laugh more. Yeah, you had to be there.