Category Archives: General

It crept in with the night, stealthily and silently. The garage had kept it out, in the tricky way it held onto heat, so when I stepped outside onto the driveway the onslaught of cold air was a shock. The first cool day hinting of fall is always a jolt. It’s a bit too soon to be wholly welcome, but we’ve been making the most of the summer days and I’m almost – almost – looking forward to fall. Extreme heat does nothing for me. Well, that’s not entirely true – it can turn me into a raging bitch from hell. I don’t like to be sticky and sweet. But comfortable days, as we’ve been having of late, with some sun and a dip in humidity, set my mind at ease. The cooler temperatures bring the blue of the sky into better focus. This time of the year does that. It will lend deeper color to anything in bloom as well. It’s the consolation for beginning the final trek of summer days. Fall is less than a month away.

The line of demarcation regarding seasons is never as finite as some of us Virgos might like it to be. There are areas of gray matter, of in-between shading, and on the days straddling high and late summer it can go either way. When I’m not afforded the luxury of poolside lounging, I prefer them to err on the side of cool but sunny. Occasionally there is a happy medium, and it’s always too fleeting.

Right now, the goldenrod is lighting up the edges of fields, and the asters of fall are budding. Summer is past its peak, but purple loosestrife and blue chicory are still going strong. We have a bit more time. We have some more summer.

By all sensible wisdom, I should not be happy to have a bunny in the backyard. A single cuddly critter can wreak havoc with the vegetation, in just a few sittings. (It’s nowhere near the massacre a single groundhog can commit in just one night, but it’s close.) This little rabbit, however, is too small to do very much damage, and thus far he or she has been keeping to the weeds, which I appreciate.

While we won’t be inviting the less-than-fearsome rodent to stay anytime soon, we will tolerate its muted nibbling as the season draws to its close.

UPDATE:

Yesterday Andy found our little friend at the bottom of the pool, dead.

I suppose this means one of us is pregnant.

Shit.

Far more than other years, I really don’t want August to end. That goes for the summer as a whole, and this is the first year in some time that I’ve felt so strongly about it. This one has just gone by too quickly. So let’s draw it out a bit, and look back over a trio of Augusts that came before.

First up is August 2010 – for which there were only two saved entries. But I’m quite fond of them both.

August 2011 found a few entries exploring the city of Boston. Much summer magic takes place in that miraculous city.

On the very edge of Massachusetts is where we spent a few days in August 2012 – when a birthday was spent in Provincetown.

Since there was more than the anniversary of my birth going on in the last week, or so I’ve been told, here’s a quick encapsulation of other supposedly-notable posts that shared the birthday limelight.

It was the wee in which I was finally tagged on the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge. Having previously avoided the shenanigans, it was Skip Montross who finally named me, and I accepted – well, I sort of accepted. Let’s just say they got the money, and a bucket was involved.

One thing that was not quite ready to kick the bucket was summer, as seen in some hosta shots and stargazing images.

Summer is also a time to get beet up.

My bush brings all the butterflies to the yard.

Off to Market.

Hunks on Parade marched their shirtless wares through the wind-down weeks of summer. Idris Elba proved what the bulge was all about, Matthew Paetz proved that Lea Michele has amazing taste, Noam Ash proved that adorable and sexy are not exclusive of each of each other, Duncan Mais proved that sometimes mere mortals are Superheroes, and Damien Rodgers continued his quest for the Mr. Gay World title.

This was a toilet in Edith Wharton’s summer home. Talk about a big pipe…

Today I turn 39 years old. One more to 40. That’s less frightening than I thought it would be, but we’ll revisit the scene next year and see if I still feel the same way. (I reserve the right to have a nervous breakdown at a moment’s notice.) As already mentioned, I will be spending the weekend in New York, taking in the last performance of ‘Bullets Over Broadway’, brunching at Tavern on the Green, and having a fancy birthday dinner at The NoMad. Just me and my husband.

That stays true to my traditional route of keeping birthdays relatively small. I was never one for big parties to commemorate the day, preferring smaller gatherings and destinations off the beaten path (hello Beaversprite). Some years it was only me and Suzie and my family. To this day, I tend to keep to the same format, quietly going about the day as if nothing much was different. (Some years I may have kept things too quiet; the few times I worked on my birthday I found myself rather depressed as I walked downtown Albany alone on my lunch hour. After that I would take the day off, even if I kept it simple.)

This year is an out-of-town year, like when we went to Provincetown in 2012. And while I’ve never been the biggest fan of New York, I’m sure there are ways they can show the birthday boy a good time. Tom Ford’s flagship store on Madison Avenue for example…

The Trojan Renaissance is in full effect every Saturday morning, when the Troy Farmer’s Market spills into the street with a colorful collection of fruits and vegetables and all sorts of other goodies. Andy and I made our first trip to this place a couple of weeks ago, and it’s almost time to revisit it. The fall should be especially lovely with bushels of squash and winter vegetables coming up to ease the trek into cooler weather. For now, the sun is still shining brightly, the heat can still be intense, and the sunflowers are coming into their August own. I’ll let these photographs do the rest of the talking.

For weeks I’d been keeping a relatively low-profile, careful not to like any posts mentioning it, vigilant not to reference or comment on it, and I was just starting to feel a bit of relief that no one had tagged me to partake in the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge. Then Skip Montross called me out. I was hoping it would be someone I could dismiss or ignore, but when a friend you genuinely admire does it, you answer the call in one way or another. The cause was good too – donations for The ALS Association, which works to fight Lou Gehrig’s disease – so even if you want nothing to do with this silliness, you should check out the ALS Donation page and see what you can muster. As for my take on the challenge, watch the video below.

Everyone knows I have no problem getting wet (see pool pics here, here, here, here… well, you get the idea) so the idea of pouring a bucket of ice water over my head was not really a big deal. Besides, Tom Ford (!), Adam Lambert, Henry Cavill, Neil Patrick Harris, David Beckham, Adam Levine, Dan Osborne, Joe Manganiello, Oprah Winfrey, Andy Cohen, Cristiano Ronaldo, Martha Stewart, Ashton Kutcher, Donatella Versace, Justin Timberlake, Chris Pratt, James Franco, Hudson Taylor, Jesse Metcalfe, Novak Djokovic, Ryan Seacrest, Lance Bass, Chord Overstreet, Jamie Dornan, Josh Groban, John Barrowman, Eddie Redmayne, Chris Hemsworth, Keith Urban, Nick Bateman, Zac Efron, Matt Damon, Benedict Cumberbatch, Matt Bomer, Josh Hutcherson, Ben Foden, Nick Jonas, Chris Evans and countless actual friends of mine had already done it. I would be in good company. Yet doing what everyone else is doing has never been my thing. It may have cost me a hundred bucks, but it was worth every penny. And since I didn’t actually do it, I didn’t have to challenge anyone else. (At least, that’s my interpretation, and I don’t intend to change it. I doubt Madonna would deign to get doused anyway.)

Yes, I know, my birthday is technically only supposed to last one day (August 24 for those out-of-the-loop) but since when have I hesitated to make the most of an occasion? By this time next week it will be over and done, so let’s make the most of the anticipation. I prefer to celebrate the future rather than the past. That said, I’ll be a good sport and indulge in this look-back over the past few days on this blog.

Let’s begin with the boys – the shirtless boys – who kept things smoking in spite of the rather cool-spell we’ve had of late. Say hello to Charles Dera, Parker Gregory, Willie Gomez, Kerry Degman, Damien Rodgers, and Ezra Miller.

Gay serial killers aren’t always fun, but they’re always remembered.

A scrumptious summer recipe utilizing crab, lemon, and capers.

A sneak-preview of school memories, which may just spark a new series.

And speaking of a series, one of the more prolific and popular on this blog – the Madonna Timeline – came roaring back to life in honor of the lady’s birthday. It was time for ‘Like A Virgin‘ wherein I recalled what it was like to be touched for the very first time.

I picked a major bone with this self-professed lost soul, who wrote a ridiculous post on the gay man as Peter Pan. Just call me Captain Hook.

As I write this, the Super Moon has risen over the land, and I’ve just spent a Sunday largely by the pool and baking in the sun. I don’t usually do that, but I was engrossed in a book, and sunny summer weekends like this are gifts. There aren’t that many of them left. And in order to squeeze out a few more beautiful moments, I’m going to rush through this recap.

First up was Tom Daley, back in his Speedo and making waves as only he can.

A flower that holds all of the summer in its sky-blue petals.

Family memories old and new, times two.

I made birthday plans, minus Tom Ford, and for the first time ever I’ll be spending my special day in New York City.

A lust for lavender, even when feeling feisty.

It’s all in the crotch.

As always, summer got a whole lot hotter with guys like Billy Magnussen, Francis Mossman and Trey Songz.

August is here. The month of my birthday is at hand. Remember the time I made up a birthday registry? That was fun. Even if I only got one item on the list. (When the starting price of a gift is $250 you tend to weed out a lot of casual gift-givers. Lesson learned.) Nowadays, I have this convenient Amazon wish list with all the incidental smaller gifts on it – along with several big-ticket items (there are a couple of Tom Ford Private Blends available – not to mention some fantastic art books). For those closer to me who may still be wondering what might tickle my fancy this birthday season, allow me to produce a list more reasonable than the Louis Vuitton items that occupied that first birthday registry in my more hubris-oriented youth.

In rather unprecedented fashion, Tom Ford is not at the top of my wish list this time. Since the Mandarino di Amalfi craze of earlier this summer (a scent so intoxicating I had to run out and purchase it myself) I haven’t found a Private Blend that really called to me. Mandarino’s sister frag, Costa Azzurra, was nice, but doesn’t have the staying power to merit such a hefty price point. Besides, the end of August doesn’t call for a bright summer fragrance. If I were to go for a Tom Ford fragrance, it would be the elusive ‘London’ Private Blend – currently only available in the London flagship store (and perhaps online if one is especially crafty and willing to deal with the steep exchange rate). That may be a wish beyond realistic possibility, but that’s what wishes are.

Without Mr. Ford, that frees up a spot for another fragrance. September is a tricky pocket of time for cologne. The days can be summer-hot, but the nights can be cooler. A little bit of citrus and a little bit of pepper offer a good balance together, but I haven’t had time to determine which scents best exemplify that right now. It may mean a spur-of-the-moment selection (like the Amber Absolute birthday gift from a few years ago). Or it may mean no new fragrance, which wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

Given my love of theater and travel, it seems odd that I’ve never asked for a trip or tickets to a show, but it’s never too late to start a new tradition. And so, in the winding trajectory of this post, I may have talked myself out of a birthday cologne, and into something entirely different. After this year’s Broadway renaissance, a rekindled passion for the Broadway musical may mean that my birthday wish is a weekend in New York. Never in my life did I think I would want to spend my birthday in the city that too often annoys me, but if I can stick to those activities and the spaces that I love, why shouldn’t it be a wonderful time?

So I’m thinking Saturday, August 23 and Sunday, August 24 at the Waldorf Towers or the Standard – two hotels that are quite different, but have each called to me over the years.  I’ve taken that Monday off for the return trip home. A day of shopping on Fifth Avenue, perhaps venturing all the way up to the Tom Ford flagship store, and maybe a walk back through Central Park, and then a show (one of the following four) on the evening we don’t do the fancy dinner:

• Kinky Boots (seen it, but worth seeing again, if only to get Andy’s take on it)
• The Book of Mormon (because, rather blasphemously, I’ve NEVER seen it)
• Bullets Over Broadway (which actually closes on my birthday – hello cosmic hint)
• A Gentleman’s Guide to Love & Murder (perhaps too close-to-home?)

I’m leaning toward ‘Bullets’ as that’s one of our favorite movies, and with a closing date on my birthday I think it may be the one (I’ve never seen a show on its closing date, but I’m guessing that’s a bittersweet and special time).

I looked at La Grenouille for a dinner (it’s one of the places where Truman Capote reportedly entertained his swans), but that was booked the entire weekend so I need to find up with a suitable substitution. Recommendations always welcome. In the meantime, start saving: my Amazon Wish List.

The month of the Virgo is upon us.

It feels blasphemous to say it, but the summer is more than half over, and speeding along at a rate far too fast for my comfort. Let’s stretch it out a bit, slow it down. At times like this, I think back to childhood, to the days when summer seemed to last forever. The beginning of August, before things got too ripe, before the zucchinis were too plump with seeds, held the aspect of endlessness. The roads stretched further then, and they were lined with wild blue chicory and Queen Ann’s lace, neither of which flinched at the heat off the pavement.

Bees and butterflies visited the umbrels of the lace-like blooms, and cicadas screeched into the midday warmth. Only the occasional passing car broke the insects’ spell, but they always resumed their buzzing. It was better when those were the concerns of the day, when the only threat was an encroaching storm-front – and even that held the possibility of toothpick races in the rain, of puddle-jumping and salamander-seeking. The best parts of boyhood might very well take place in the summer.

Every now and then I’ll pass a patch of chicory and Queen Ann’s lace, pausing in the summer sun, and remembering a time when summer was the destination. It seems we’ve arrived again. Let’s make it last.

In case you haven’t noticed (and a few of you complainers most certainly did, thanks so much) things have been a bit light here as far as content and posts go. To that I say, ‘Tough titties,’ because it’s summer and I’d rather be floating in the pool or working on the new project than tethered to a lap-top that burns right into my crotch. Save those warm willies for when the winter comes back. I’m out. Check back in the fall if you want something serious. In the meantime, naked guys, shirtless guys, bulging guys, and lazy-ass posts like this one. Sing along with me…