Carlos Edriel Yulo just earned the Philippines its first-ever gold medal in gymnastics, and Yulo becomes the second Filipino to win a gold Olympic medal. (The amazing Hidilyn Diaz was the first Filipino to win a Gold Medal back in 2021.) With this pinnacle of gymnastic awards, Yulo easily becomes the most successful Filipino gymnast in the country’s history. Pinoy Pride!!!
Arriving at the end of July brings a bittersweet moment, as it means one full year will have passed since Dad died. It still stings when I say it, and I try not to skirt saying it in the hope that one day it won’t sting as much. I don’t know if that’s the best way to do it, but I refuse to bury it. Instead, I let the sadness come when it does, I allow myself to stay in bed on weekends if I don’t feel like getting up right away. And in the same vein, I allow the happiness of summer to wash over me too. To that end, here is our weekly recap for the last week of July, when summer is at its most potent.
My Godson celebrated his second birthday.
Every summer is a brat summer here.
Getting naked and making every muthafucka turn.
Three visitors on a summer evening.
Olympic spotlight on: Caeleb Dressel
Dazzlers of the Day included Aya Nakamura, Léon Marchand, and Rene Farias.
At first there were two.
I couldn’t quite make out what they were as I didn’t have my glasses on. Having just slipped into the pool to find some relief for my back, and a day that found me largely asleep in bed, I only saw two forms fluttering about the cherry tree. I thought they were butterflies as I hastened to put my glasses back on.
Finding them again in the cherry, I saw that they were hummingbirds – a pair of them playing or fighting, I couldn’t tell which, and they were no less charming for whatever drama they were playing out. Flitting from thuja to cherry and back, they darted to and from each other, until one flew high above all the trees, zipped back, then did it again – back and forth to the other one, before they both took off.
One came back, but I’d already moved to the deep end of the pool, so I viewed it from afar. I saw it descend smoothly and surprisingly swiftly right toward me, so close I almost had to duck, its body solid and dark of color, its wings moving too quickly for me to discern, and then it suddenly stopped in mid air, pausing to poke its tongue into the flowers of the cup plant. A charming moment that made me involuntarily smile.
Slipping back underwater, I swam down and tried to let my back ease off itself. It had been a beautiful day – I should have spent more of it outside, I just didn’t feel like it.
After a few more slow laps to loosen up the limbs and relax the back, I floated languidly and listened to a third visitor who had just arrived – a cricket. Its chirping reminded me that the first part of summer was over. It’s the sound of August. Already an ending, and I’m still trying to be ok with it.
First it was my neck, then it was my back – both victims of trying to pull up tree roots that had taken ten years to take hold. My body was no match for such stalwart and stubborn strength. A household with two bad backs falls quickly to mess and disrepair – it’s only a matter of time before we round the turn to the fast-track to ‘Grey Gardens‘. With only one month to go before I hit the age of 49, I’m feeling all the years.
After visiting with friends I’ve had since childhood, I had a Big Chill moment, thinking back on where we are now compared with where we were then. Comparison is still the thief of joy but I couldn’t stop myself. And it didn’t steal all the joy, just a bit of it, because the passing of time does take things, no matter how careful we try to be. It also reveals what didn’t come to pass, turning our dreams against us, or endlessly and elusively taunting us with their ongoing existence.
The back cries out, the neck stiffens, and the walk becomes stilted.
Time, you win. Time, you always win. Time, go easy on us…
Slipping into the pool for some relief (gravity does bad things to backs when they’re at their worst) I let the spine elongate and relax, decompressing those discs or whatever might be going on to cause the pain. The relief is cruelly temporary. Outside in the air, in a strange breeze of early evening, the chill caused my back to hunch up again. The spell has dissipated. The dull ache returns. Middle age haunts us in different ways. I’m trying to make that ghost into a friend.
Siting in the attic, I hold a letter that my friend Ann left for me. She and Missy joined us for an all-too quick weekend visit, part of our coquette summer and a vital recharge of the soul and heart. Whenever such time together comes to an end, I find a bit of sadness and mourning in the hours after – the way my heart would sink a little after every tour visit or on the ride home from one of those Saturday night card games. Re-reading her card, I feel the gratitude for the time we had together – not only this weekend, but the decades that came before when somehow we followed and held fast to the delicate threads of friendship. So many friendships are finite and fleeting – the three of us have managed to maintain our connections no matter the time or distance apart. For that reason, we know things about each other than none of our partners or spouses know – and that sort of connection seems to be more and more rare. Even my niece and nephew – just fourteen – have gone through more friendship circles than I did in twenty years. I hold Ann and Missy a little closer for that elusive bond. As this song plays in the empty room that Ann left as the sun was still pouring into the window to start the day, I go back to the Friday afternoon that she arrived…
It had been a work-week from hell – early signs of the full Buck Moon had already been felt in a tumultuous Friday, and by the time I got home, my nerves were frazzled, compounded by the general madness of the world right now and the approach of my Dad’s anniversary. Part of me wondered if I had it in me to make it through the weekend – then I remembered it was just Ann and Missy. And by ‘just’, I mean my dearest and nearest friends – the ones who have become family over all our years together. We didn’t need to maintain our friendship or closeness – people change, people move onto different lives, people simply fall out of touch – only a few remain the same, retaining the close comfort and safety when all guards can be down, when you can speak freely, laugh loudly, cry quietly, and simply spend a summer weekend in a happy state of calm – but somehow we did it. I’d almost forgotten how important it was to reconnect like that, to recharge the soul and shut out the sorrow in this particular moment of the world. Ann and Missy would remind me immediately of that.
Ann and I settled in for a couple of good talks – out by the pool, in the dining room, and ultimately on the conversation couch, where we stayed up later than either of us usually does – the way old friends pick up where they last left off, but with all the happy memories lapping upon them to add layers of reassurance and safety. It dawned on me, all these years later, how much we had seen each other through, especially in those shaky high school years. I would not be here today if it weren’t for Ann. It sounds like such a simple proclamation – but oh how much heartache and love is in everything that that encapsulates. Only she and I will ever know. What a treasure to have someone with which to share it, and to realize, perhaps a little too late, that as alone as we both felt at various times, we never quite were. I think we kept that in our minds more then than we do now – and this weekend was a reassurance that it still holds true.
The next morning we slept in more than we typically do. The cozy non-rushed company of an old friend lends an ease to a sunny summer Saturday that I will bring to mind on the colder, darker days of the year that will undoubtedly come, and I was glad to make a memory to save for then. We slowly entered the day, then got into our coquette outfits – pink, pink, and more pink. Ann is always game for a theme, and it was she who brought in the featured sign for our coquette era. Missy arrived – shockingly and beautifully in pink (because pink is not a color that Missy has ever worn) but for this special weekend she made the effort, resplendent in bows and pearls and a dusty rose dress. Her son Cameron had actually helped pick out the coquette theme for the summer, advising on what was and wasn’t coquette, and Missy delivered the look and the missive. She brought a bouquet of pink roses, and the three of us immediately returned to the gossipy fun of our youth as if the past twenty years hadn’t happened. (At my best calculation, the last time the three of us were in a room together was our 10th reunion back in 2003.)
While it may have felt like no time had passed in the way we instantly fell into our laughter and memory-laden merry-making, much had in fact happened in those two decades. It came up in references to those we had lost, in the way our stories sometimes led to moments of melancholy, in quick recaps that spelled out some of what had happened in matter-of-fact language that merely hinted at the sorrow and heartache behind it. Old friends have a shorthand way of taking that all in – of being aware of the things that informed each others lives, nodding to signal an empathetic bit of telepathy, and helping to heal in the next sentence when it was already ok to laugh again.
Following the same loose trajectory of the day before, we moved from poolside to dining room to conversation couch. I felt us relax and lean into the safe harbor of friendships that extended well back into our childhoods, and in one of those lovely moments when memories past, memories-in-the-making and a realization of the moment at hand all cross like arms in a hug at the end of the day. As we laughed uproariously at things that were just being said, I thought back to our first tentative days as friends, back when we were only kids. Finding someone who got you and your humor, who didn’t judge the differences but rather found comfort in your similarities, made for a sense of security that I’m not sure we even felt all the time from our own families. Our bond was forged then, even if we didn’t fully grasp it. Maybe on some level we understood that one day we would eventually lose those loved ones, that we would need this chosen family when things got dim and dark. Maybe we held onto it for all these years because in addition to losing loved ones we might also have lost a bit of our own way. Maybe this is the start of reconnecting more regularly and relying on each other again – so much easier to do in a world of texting and social media, when we can harness the technology for something sacred and good.
The next morning, they had to get going early, and Andy and I had Jaxon’s birthday to attend early that afternoon. Life wouldn’t wait, but I paused in the attic, opened up the letter from Ann, and held onto the moment until it was seared into my heart.
And so we move boldly, bravely, and still trepidatiously ahead.
The survival of America – of democracy itself – is, finally, up to the American people.
I hope we have it in us to do the right thing.
#VoteBlue
This swallowtail butterfly paid us a visit a few days ago, right after a hummingbird had been flitting around the cup plant blooms. While this plant can get unruly and push its volunteers out of all sorts of bounds, the charming visitors it brings, and its own whiny and charm, more than merits such a cost. With carefulness, it can all be kept under control.
The same cannot be said of the magnificent swallowtail butterfly, or any butterly for that matter. We can provide a safe haven, plant its favorite flowers, and make for a welcoming environment where it won’t be bothered, but the rest is entirely out of our hands. That the butterflies and hummingbirds and bees still visit is a happy turn of fortune.
“Positive people are not positive because they’ve skated through life. They’re positive because they’ve been through hell and decided they don’t want to live there anymore.” – Mona Lisa Nyman
My friend Ann loves Mondays. She was explaining this to me in earnest and genuine enthusiasm, exclaiming that it offers a new chance to start fresh at the beginning of every week, and once you’re have the outlook the Sunday scaries dissipate. I’m not quite there yet, but I kept that in mind as I started the workday, and staying in that mindset throughout the day proved surprisingly helpful. Ann has been through more than just about anyone I know, losing her parents and two siblings, and still moving forward with a positive attitude. The opening quote personifies who she is. If she can be positive and upbeat in the face of so much tragedy, all of us can be. It’s a choice, and I’m reframing the dour way we end the weekend and welcome the new week with a different slant. So much of life is a matter of personal perspective and how we look at and view and take in the world – over that we have an element of control, and any chance you have to make your own destiny is one you must take.
And so, as we end this summer Monday, I take some inspiration from Ann, who reminded me of many good things this weekend…
A week wrecked by the full Buck Moon wreaked havoc at the workplace and in the world. As we reckon with the changes in the air, I retreat to our home, and our chosen family. More on that in a bit – for now, our usual Monday morning recap.
It began in super hot and super humid fashion, and we did what we could to remain impossibly refreshed.
Make way for the Albany ducklings.
Returning to meditation that matters.
Pink lilies for a coquette summer.
Daisies beginning, daisies ending.
True blue in an almost-pink sky.
A coquette visit to soothe the soul.
Dazzlers of the Day included Bryan Ruby, David Gandy, and Bette Midler.
My birthday is almost one month from today, so plan accordingly, especially with the shipping delays I’ve noticed lately from Amazon Prime. (And speaking of Amazon, here’s my Amazon Wish List link for anyone looking for filler.) The rest of this list is, let’s be honest, for Andy and my Mom and very special close friends because some of these are big asks. However, as a wise woman once wrote in a book called ‘Sex’, “A lot of people are afraid to say what they want. That’s why they don’t get what they want.” Proceed accordingly, and thank you in advance from the bottom of my heart.
I’m hoping to have procured the origin fragrance for this one by the time my 49th anniversary on earth rolls around, so the Le Labo Bergamote 22 Body Lotion would make an ideal accompaniment. Scent lasts so much longer when you have the lotion to go with it – and lotion always makes everything better.
The gold obsession, sparked by the prominence of gold jewelry in all things coquette, rages on with this Bezel-Set Peridot Station Necklace in 18kt Gold Over Sterling (20″ length please) – which would mark my first foray into wearing my birthstone. As much as I love the color of the peridot, it never seemed quite precious enough to warrant a wear – how absolutely ridiculous of me! Let the peridot celebration commence.
Always one to succumb to a viral candy crazy, this is me begging for more of this Swedish candy. I would be positively gobsmacked in the best possible way if either the BonBon’s Summer Mix or the BonBon’s Sour Mix made it into any birthday gift bag for me. These take a bit longer to ship, and forewarned is fair-warned as they told me in the retail business.
Finally, speaking of retail, will somebody please buy me the Ash Tropic Blue Suede Trainers by Marc Nolan (Size 9, as they run large)? I recently acquired my first pair of Marc Nolan shoes and they are impressive.
My friends Ann and Missy have been integral people in my life since childhood, and maintaining our friendship for four decades has made us more like family than friends. They have both saved me from some very dark times, while supplying some of the happiest and most uproarious moments of my teenage wasteland. This weekend they are scheduled to visit – the first time we will all be together since our 10th high school reunion if my calculations (hazy at best) prove correct. Both of them have also promised to be full game for our coquette summer theme. Ann has been cloaked in pink for years – Missy says she will be wearing it for the first time in forever.
The older I get, and this year I feel older than I’ve ever been (not only because I literally am, but because the past year has taken a lot out of me in just about every way) the more I realize the importance of maintaining the connections that have made us who we are. Ann and Missy were two of the most important people in that formative portion of my young life, and seeing them again will bring all of us the sort of happiness that proves more and more elusive with the passing days.
Certain flowers come drenched in sex, like certain fragrances. The passionflower – Passiflora – is most definitely one of those flowers. Practically pornographic in its elaborate architecture – not blatantly so like a calla lily’s cloaked protuberance, more in the sense of voluptuous excess, bold and brazen and come-fuck-me fashion. There’s nothing very subtle about the passionflower, and perhaps that’s why I’ve never grown one. Despite ample evidence to the contrary, I’m a subtle girl. Yes, he whispered, a lover of subtlety…
Better-known ducklings have been immortalized in the Boston Public Garden, but these local beauties enchanted Andy and I as they crossed our path on the way home from Sunday dinner at Mom’s. A couple of Saratoga ducks made similar motions a few summers ago.
Ducks have played a part in all of our lives.
[Idiocy of that last sentence was absolutely intentional.]
Hello heatwave – and welcome! High summer means high heat, and I’m not at all mad about it – yet. Setting the alarm a little earlier so as to allow for some morning watering to save the hydrangeas and ostrich ferns, I’m almost able to keep them going, but after this stretch it may be time to let the summer crest. On with the weekly recap, as we do…
Beginning with a broken egg, the week was off to a shattering start.
The Dazzler of the Day was Diplo.
Theo James filled the famed Dolce & Gabbana white Speedo with his bulge.
My friends continue to dazzle me.
My ‘give-a-fucks’ are on vacation.
Escaping into a shirtless celebrity Sunday.
