Having no control over everything, I turned 38 this past week on a quiet low-key sunny day in upstate New York (more on that later). We spent the day at Edith Wharton’s estate and garden, The Mount, which was amazing – did a little shopping at the Lee outlets, and returned home to have dinner with my parents. All in all, it was a very good day for this birthday boy. But since marking the passage of time is not my favorite thing to do, let’s take a quick look back and be done with it.
The infuriatingly tricky way to navigate through this site was only partially-successfully explained here. I recommend just typing words into the ‘Search’ feature at the bottom of the page and praying to get lucky.
Nothing inspires me more than a good song, which were in plentiful supply with the likes of Verdi Cries, Already Gone, Misty, and Darling Be Home Soon…
Unless it’s a new Tom Ford Private Blend, like this Rive d’Ambre. Now that is inspiring.
The amazing Ben Cohen tweeted me a Happy Birthday message, which just goes to show he’s not just beautiful on the outside, but on the inside as well. (Not that there was ever any doubt.)
Boston was filled with flowers, many flowers, on the way to Charlestown.
Because of the blue full moon, I took it all off and jumped in the pool on a steamy summer night. (That’s right, naked shots here and here.)
Finally, I said good-bye to not knowing when the truth in my whole life began. (Further proof that I can turn any post or conversation into a Madonna lyric.)
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