Category Archives: General

Wind has been vicious the past few days. Messages and meanings crash against the house in the middle of the night. When I sit in the attic and write I can leave the music off and listen to the raging tantrum outside. Somewhat strangely, there is comfort in the dull cacophony, muted by the roof and walls and windows. The howling and whistling still seeps in, but the thunderous whirling roar is blunted to soothing form. Background noise, like the rhythmic call of the ocean, so dangerously pulling the unaware to sleep. 

The end of winter doesn’t want to arrive, like some reluctant child clinging to the womb. I watch the pine boughs in wild sway as the sun struggles to set the land ablaze, and listen to the avalanche of air – invisible, omnipotent beast. 

And then I hear something playful at work, some presence that lets me know things will be ok, that everything will be all right in the end. Maybe it’s hope. Maybe it’s faith. Maybe it’s someone I miss from the other side. 

Maybe a whisper of a God so powerful and angry it comes as a gale and a gust for all the things we’re currently doing wrong. Superstition works both ways; magic and fairy stories serve their purpose in attempting to explain the unexplainable. We believe what we want to believe – sometimes what we need to believe – to get through, to survive, to weather a windy night. 

The plastic bag scene in ‘American Beauty‘ was a way to capture wind on film. It’s always haunted me for that, and for other things. 

Our now-non-holiday cactus has decided to grace us with a smattering of blooms, long before we could even consider it an Easter cactus, and so far removed from Thanksgiving or Christmas that it gives up any chance of holiday affiliation. I don’t appreciate it any less, however; in fact, it may have sensed our wish for spring, and flowers, and any glimpse of hope in this gray and barren world, and thus delivered a show out of sync with any human-sanctioned holiday. Those are often the best shows anyway – the unexpected, the unhyped, the unpredicted. The reminder that life is so often a whim that defies planning or expectation. I need to heed that lesson more, to embrace the moment at hand and not attempt to set some rigid outline of what’s going to happen. That takes up way too much space in the brain, and my brain needs what little space remains just to get me through the damn day. 

Preliminary planning for this year’s BroSox Adventure began on a dismal rainy night at La Mexicana Restaurant and Grocery Store on Central Fucking Avenue. Sidling into one of several empty booths at this cheery hole-in-the-wall, Skip and I dove into brainstorming for what marks the 10th anniversary of our very first Boston Red Sox trip, so it’s got to be epic. Go Big or Go Home (Plate). See, I know baseball lingo. Strike! Dug-out! (The word says it.)

Here is some music to go with our food, and a mock-margarita that is just pure Jose Cuervo margarita mix minus any alcohol, rimmed with salt and adored with a slice of lime. Totally as awful as it sounds, but when in Rome! The company was good, and the food was delicious, so you take the wins when you can, and on a cold rainy night in March, a Mexican meal with an old friend is comfort indeed. 

My proposal for #BroSox10 is an ambitious two-page itinerary of box items that touch on classic moments and memories over the past decade of BroSox adventures, with the intent to check off as many as we feel up to doing. The expectation is that two or three might get checked off if we get off our lazy asses and front stoop – no promises for much more beyond that. Perhaps we’ll rally and drive through all of them, or perhaps we’ll meet somewhere in the middle – whatever the outcome, it’s bound to be fun and chill and just what my world needs in such dark times. 

Part of the fun is in the planning, so we’ll delve into details and cement game dates as we get deeper into spring. It’s a banner year for so many reasons… stay tuned. And if you have any suggestions what two mid-to-late-forty-something gents should do when in Beantown, send them my way. Skip is always up for a dare. 

I don’t work in Human Resources because I hate people!

I hate people because I work in Human Resources. 

{Totally, almost, hardly kidding.}

March has entered the building like a proverbial lion, and as things are already brewing for the month that will usher in spring, let’s get this weekly blog recap out of the way so we can continue on our journey. 

A post and a pause for narcissism! Here here!

Shallow dish, deep reward.

The Madonna Timeline returns in lackluster fashion, because not every song can be ‘Vogue’. 

To the Trump voters who use Medicaid, this one’s for/on you. 

Beauty in the aftermath.

Preparing the way.

A message of the kids, and especially the parents of kids: if you get vaccinated for measles you won’t get measles and die.

Back to basics in a pair of Calvin Klein briefs.

The economic blackout was a success as far as saving money for the day went. (And I’m going to continue the slowdown in my general spending habits on a more regular basis.)

Life can be sweet if you stop to sniff the urine. 

Looking back was a theme for the week.

The fairy in flight. 

Deliciously dreamy, queer and dear.

Lions and lambs and Lent – oh my!

A blue-hued interlude.

Fabulous in fuchsia.

A pause in our divine duties.

A Monday morning moment.

Dazzlers of the Day included Amanda Rheaume and Franz Rogowski.

‘Tis the day for the proverbial ‘In like a lion, out like a lamb‘ quote, as March arrives and ushers in the week where Lent begins. It’s all entirely too religious for me, and as I’m scheduled to see ‘Conclave’ with Andy and Mom, I’ve had about all I can take of religious destruction for the moment. Let us pause instead, to welcome in the month where spring begins again, at least according to the calendar – and I’ll take whatever form it comes in after this trying winter. 

A little hope never hurt anyone. 

Farewell fickle February! You will not be missed!

Be gone, wretched month of winter madness! 

Hit the road, brutish beast, and don’t you come back no more, no more, no more, no more!

All right, it seems I’m not a fan of February, and I don’t know any sane person who is, so we bid the vicious month adieu with this look-back, and a few out-takes from the Divine Diva Tour, giving another layer of meaning to the term ‘look-back’. We do love a double-entendre in these precious parts. 

It sets us up nicely for tomorrow’s resuming of The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale. We are deep into fairy territory now, so come back and fly with us… 

The month began with David Beckham baring some butt cheek. Bodacious!

The media began the find out portion of its own FAFO journey. Brilliant!

The prime and prep for the posting of the Divine Diva Tour sounded with this playlist. Beautiful!

The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale took flight. Bragadocious!

The body of my youth is missed now more than ever. Brazen!

The Valentine Collection. Bewitching!

The very naked Patrick Schwarzenegger. Bootylicious!

The very porn-free nature of this website. Brash!

The fragrance to embody the desert-like depths of winter. Boss!

As Norma Desmond once proclaimed, “Today’s the day!” She wasn’t ever talking about not spending any money for a day, but times have changed and we are in a dire stretch. It seems the only way we as a people can speak to those in power is through their income, so this is the day we send a message to the corporations running things, and the oligarchs that have infiltrated our government, by simply not spending anything other than on local businesses. It’s actually not as difficult as it initially sounds, especially if you’ve made any plans prior to this as I’ve already suggested. 

Personally, I’m grateful for the spending break – at least, my dwindling bank account is thankful. Inflation, eggs, and gas have all gone way up since Trump took office, as so many of us predicted, and we are all paying the price. 

But not today, Satan! And not for a while – this is my impetus to start saving and stop spending on a more daily basis. There is joy enough to be found without having to pay for it. 

Tomorrow, February 28, marks the planned Economic Blackout originally mentioned in this post, wherein we – the people and the consumers – show what is left of our power. The idea is to not buy anything for 24 hours (or if you absolutely must to do so only from local businesses) in an effort to show the corporations in charge that we still have a voice, and the power of the purchase, to rebel against corporate greed and the rolling back of Diversity, Equity and Inclusion efforts (DEI) such as the ones Target recently eliminated (and are currently paying the price for). 

It’s simple enough: plan today so you don’t have to buy anything tomorrow – whether online, at the gas pump, or some fast food joint – and let the big corporations feel what it’s like when we act as a unified community. As I’ve said before, I don’t know what, if any, real impact this will have, but I myself am guilty of over-consuming and spending, and having a day of not letting anything leave my wallet or bank account is helpful on more than one level. My Amazon orders alone are embarrassingly unnecessary, and it no longer feels good to spend at places like Target or Amazon when their CEOs are clearly supporting Trump’s tax breaks for them while slashing vital programs like Medicaid. Look it all up, as this is what the American people voted for, whether they knew or cared at the time. Too late now.

In the meantime, I’m selfishly taking tomorrow off from all spending, and I’m going to see how long I can go. The truth is that one day of not buying won’t make much of a dent, it’s up to us to revise and modify our daily spending practices. Focus on what is locally available, and make use of what you already have on hand. I’d rather keep it in my own pocket, or spread it around locally, than send it off to the billionaires who already have enough. Here’s a list of upcoming dates and boycotts that may send a message to the people in power. 

The trajectory of a bouquet of flowers is brief and fleeting, and always more precious because of its short timeframe. We often value things that don’t last more than those that stick around, and while it’s foolish to give something with a shorter shelf life more worth, human nature is flawed and rife with such folly. 

I’ve pushed against that, finding beauty and interest in the bouquet that is past its prime, or falling apart entirely. I like seeing the way some flowers dry in place, or lose their petals, or wilt and decay into gorgeously grotesque form. 

We capture the table that looks pristine, striving for the freshest moment, hoping to catch the crest of a flower’s bloom, the first burn of a candle’s undarkened wick. 

What of the beauty of the reality of it all, when it starts to fall apart and become victim to time and air and age? What of the fallen pile of petals, arranged in new radial form, or haphazard abstract wonder? What of the aftermath? There is beauty to be found here too. 

Candles and flowers saw us through the last week of winter, while the world remained frigid and inhospitable the moment you set foot outside of a heated home. Hunker-down season continues, while whispers of spring carry on the night wind. Let’s push past this final week of February and let the lion leap us into March, but first the weekly recap…

Snow moon enchantment. 

A single candle fells winter.

Madonna wants to tuck us in again. (That’s ‘tuck’, with a ‘T’.)

In the midst of winter, a desert dawn.

A dream is a wish my heart makes.

A coat of ice.

Technological deficiencies. 

A candlelight dinner.

Start planning, start saving.

The question of sleepwalking.

February flowers, only for those who appreciate such things..

A lot of living to do.

When a dazzler takes a fall.

Life’s a banquet.

Winter manscaping.

Sundaylight.

Dazzlers of the Day included Theresa Nellis, Aaron Pierre, Darren Hayes, and Janet Mills.

Spreading the glow of candlelight in these final weeks of winter has proven crucial in buoying sagging spirits and inspiring thoughts of spring and summer, even if the weather has us wondering if they will ever come again. 

Our icicles haven’t been this long in years, and I can’t recall such a sustained string of freezing weather.  At least a thick blanket of snow is acting as insulation for the garden that slumbers beneath. 

Themes for spring and summer have been whispering to me of late, each finding confirmation and encouragement in the wispy currents of the universe. All will be revealed in good time. For now, the needed and necessary toil of the final weeks of winter. We trudge onward, we trudge through, we trudge in the service of something new. 

‘There is nothing new under the sun.’

There’s a special pit in hell for those of us who laugh at the folly and falls of others (not far from the pit for those who gloat they don’t have to work when others do), but I’m going there anyway so I might as well live, laugh and love while I’m here. This is our dear friend Skip, who once dazzled these parts in posts like this and this and this. He was good (read: foolish) enough to send us this clip, and I’ve never been so grateful for security cam footage in my life. Let’s slow it down for anyone who wants to peruse the moment. 

(It’s the little leg-kick at the end for me.)

First of all, my 50th birthday is coming up this summer, so this is foremost a reminder to plan accordingly. Fifty don’t come cheap. 

Second, and perhaps more importantly (I said perhaps) next Friday marks a planned economic blackout to show the oligarchy so disturbingly in charge right now that we the people still have some say and some semblance of power (at least until it’s finally shredded in whatever monstrous Executive Order or Congressional action gets unleashed next – will Medicaid or Medicare be the first to go? FAFO, MAGA morons!)

On February 28, I encourage you to join me in not spending or ordering anything from any entity other than locally-owned-and-operated businesses for one day, which will double as a helpful lesson in saving, while sending a message, if enough of us join, that we are entirely fed up. It may take some planning and preparation, particularly if you’re like my husband and me, whose meal plans are usually created and purchased the day of – but it will be good to go without spending at Amazon or Target for a day, and perhaps longer. 

Do I have any idealized belief that this will result in anything concrete? Not at this point – one would be a fool to think that such things matter anymore, but it’s something we can all actively do. And maybe we will feel a little better about not having contributed to the richest people in power for one day. 

Almost every casual conversation I’ve had this week – from co-workers in the elevator to the cashier at Trader Joe’s – has referenced the wear and tear of this particular winter. I think we are all feeling weary of it, and I don’t recall a stretch of such sustained frigid and icy weather in recent years without a bit of a break. The winter doldrums are here, and relief is a long way off. 

For my part, I’ve largely avoided dwelling on something over which we have no control, such as the weather, and the winter. Instead, I look to the sweet spots of beauty, even in the awfulness of a weekend-long ice storm. 

There is magic here, a wonderland that can only be conjured in the winter. For that we should be grateful.