From her supernova-making heroine in ‘Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon’ to her exquisitely multi-faceted jewel of a semi-villain in ‘Crazy Rich Asians’, Michelle Yeoh has been devouring scenery for years. Her most recent role in the brilliant ‘Everything, Everywhere All at Once’ is the stuff of legend – and for that alone she earns this Dazzler of the Day honor – go see it and tell me it’s not dazzling.
I found a lovely bouquet of pale pink hyacinths at the market a couple of weeks ago, and they held long stems that included the very top of the bulbs from which they originated. I plopped them into a vase and let them flaccidly flop about, thinking they might rebound like a tulip and curve upwards. Instead, they curved downward, and the effect was rather graceful and enchanting. It’s difficult to go wrong when you let nature guide design.
The resulting form echoed that of a trailing orchid bloom as it hangs over some tropical tree limb. It was an exquisite effect, so I didn’t bother re-cutting the flowers to a shorter and more sturdy form. Beauty will happen where it happens – it’s best to just go with the flow.
His popular turn on ‘Chicago P.D’ has made him known to millions, but this crowning of Jesse Lee Soffer as Dazzler of the Day is mostly due to my pal Elizabeth’s request. And for bringing him to my attention, as well a being a dear friend for about four decades, I owe her more than this post. Be sure to follow Soffer on Twitter as well because give good Tweets too.
For far too long I’ve played into the image and idea that I’m a high maintenance person. It goes with the diva-like territory in which I’ve mostly pretended to live, but isn’t an accurate representation of truth. Take the pictured shirt, for example. It’s from Wal-Mart. I got it at half price a few months ago, cut the sleeves off for comfort, and it’s quickly become my new favorite shirt for bedtime. A high-maintenance person doesn’t find such comforts so easily. But my problem with that perceived designation runs deeper, because for me being high-maintenance isn’t about being a perfectionist or being very particular about how things are done.
A truly high-maintenance person is someone who is impossible to please, either from impossible demands, or unclear requests. A high-maintenance person will answer a question like, ‘What do you want for dinner?’ with, ‘Oh, I don’t know, whatever you want is fine.’ Then when they get a burger and fries, lament and complain that it’s not a steak and twice-baked potato. That’s not me.
I’ve always made it exactly known what I want and how I want it. Hell, I’ve established registries for birthdays and Christmas to eliminate guesswork. I’m brazenly clear about what I like and enjoy, and unabashedly lean into asking for it. People have mistaken this for being high-maintenance, when it’s very much the opposite. The blueprint is there, the map is laid out, and all anyone has to do is follow the simple instructions – often accompanied with an explanatory blog post such as this.
It doesn’t get any easier.
When they go high, I go low.
We love a multi-hyphenate wearer-of-many-hats in the realm of the dazzling, and no one’s hats demand a more hyphenated form than current Dazzler of the Day Damon L. Jacobs. A licensed marriage and family therapist, relationship expert, speaker, author and advocate, Jacobs keeps his journey filled with all sorts of activities. He’s also done a series of ‘Tub Talks’ which are just as described – talks that take place in his tub. That’s the best interview format I’ve ever seen. (Check them out on his YouTube Channel here, and then dive into his website here for a more comprehensive look at his accomplishments.)
This spring week ran the gamut – from snowstorms to sunny days – and emotions ran a similarly bumpy road. While Andy eyes opening the pool, I continue the clean-up of the garden, and preparing for a few guests this coming weekend. Spring is filled with such rollercoasters. Let’s retread the previous week before diving headfirst into a new one.
A pop of color ignited the start of the week.
This pansy smiled through the snow. (Clearly a better pansy than me.)
Dream bread – and the search is on.
This post is for anyone with the munchies, no matter the date.
After 21 years, I got a parking permit for downtown Albany.
Tom Ford, for further inspiration.
A Boston spring stroll begins with a flower-filled Friday…
…and concludes with a seaside walk.
Near the end of our Spring Stroll in Boston, this patch of yellow crocus appeared, heralding the new season and mimicking the sun that decided to disappear right at that moment. These little flowers carried on the cheer in the face of wind and rain. They make a lovely little mid-Sunday treat as well.
After a relaxing Friday evening entry into Boston, Saturday dawned with sunshine – a deceptive peek at the beauty to be had when weather and atmosphere agreed. We knew that wouldn’t last, and with storms forecast for the afternoon, we hurriedly grabbed an Uber to the seaport, where our seaside Spring Stroll was scheduled to begin.
The sea had been calling to us for years, yet for some reason we largely, and unintentionally, steered clear of its magic. It was there on nights when the fog streamed in from the water, and all of Boston had the smell of ocean and seaweed carried on wet winds, and I always longed for it then, but we never really did anything about it. Until this weekend.
We planned the bulk of our day around the seaport – walking and strolling along the harbor amid the seagulls and the lapping water. Spring was definitely in the air, and we absorbed the moment as best we could, knowing that storms were brewing, feeling the subtle shift in the air as the hours ticked by.
Here, in this city, where old and new combined and collided on cobblestone streets and brand new construction, we wound our way along the water, greeting the spring season in this virgin stroll.
The sun was strong, and the air warm enough to remove a jacket for a picture or two. It felt like such a simple joy, yet when I think back on the last two years, how grandly epic such simplicity really is. There can be grace and grandiosity in every moment, no matter how seemingly simple.
We enjoyed an early lunch at a Mexican restaurant, then made our way back downtown for some shopping. By that time the rain had arrived, and we headed back home as the first drops began to fall. Such was our first Spring Stroll.
I’m being bold enough to hope for another.
We won’t cast a hex by proclaiming this the first annual Boston Spring Stroll, we will merely celebrate it as the first, and perhaps last, time Kira and I performed such an endeavor, and if it grows into something beyond this moment, so it shall be. For now, this initial spring weekend in Boston was a simple exercise in spending time with a cherished friend, walking down new streets and avenues in a favorite city.
Of course, every Boston stroll – holiday, spring, or otherwise – begins with the Friday afternoon/evening entry to get thing rolling. It’s usually my favorite part of the festivities, because it’s all about anticipation and planning and the moments when the whole weekend holds full of possibility. Here, Boston greeted us with floral beauty – and the very first blooms of the season.
While Kira finished up her work day, I perused Newbury Street and picked up some dinner amendments before heading back to the condo for the best part of the day: the afternoon siesta.
As Kira made her way from Mass General to Back Bay, I finished cooking a tamarind fish curry dinner (it being a Friday in Lent) and put out a spread of appetizers. We toasted to the Spring Stroll, and our planned seaside adventure.
Sharing a dinner with a friend remains one of life’s overlooked indulgences, and I continue to find gratitude in such simple acts of camaraderie. Kira and I talked and caught up over the meal, and made tentative and loos plans for the next day, which looked to be fraught with some sort of rain. Not out of place for a spring stroll, I suppose, but no less annoying for that.
As the day closed, we realized we had stayed at the kitchen table talking and laughing and there was no time for a movie. It made for a night of deep sleep, and a re-entry into Boston living, at least for the weekend…
Legend has it that the name ‘daisy’ is derived from ‘day’s eye’, which seems too good to be true, but maybe there was a time when the world made sense, and pretty things had pretty names without any sort of ulterior motives or cynical irony. I’m embracing that kind of hope as I am due in Cape Cod for JoAnn’s birthday gathering, and given the way travel plans have gone over the past two years, may the universe smile on our little get-together.
In honor of the birthday girl, here are some daisies, one of her favorites. They remind me of her, and populate any party we’ve thrown in her honor. A more cheerful floral persona the world doesn’t yet know.
The rabbits of our neighborhood have been especially active these past few months, decimating any and all greenery that may have persisted into the winter (including two prized fountain bamboo plants that are usually left alone), but they’re so cute I can’t bring myself to be too mad at them. A few days before Easter, I was looking out the front window at the bunny pictured above, when I called Andy to see. He stood next to me and said there were two – and indeed there were. I didn’t notice the second one hidden in the shadow of the Thuja hedge until he pointed it out. Two bunnies simply enjoying a spring day that deigned to allow the sun to shine.
In our backyard, there may be more rabbits to come. While clearing out the garden, I raked away an unnaturally-organized pile of debris – smaller pieces of lawn grass and little whorls of dried foliage arranged in a little mound – when I noticed that the mound was moving up and down. Immediately realizing that I had disturbed some sort of animal nest, I hastened to put back what I had removed. Even if it were a pile of mice, I didn’t have the heart to expose it to the harsh weather we were still having. I left that part of the garden alone, then retreated indoors to tell Andy what I’d seen.
I thought it might have been a squirrel’s nest, or some mice, but Andy said he thought squirrels had their nests in the trees. A few hours later we saw one of the bunnies sitting right over the mound, standing guard or nursing, and I realized it was a little rabbit den. Not exactly convenient, but for the moment they can stay, at least until they’re big enough to shoo away.
According to certain ancient and outdated edicts, a lady is never supposed to reveal her true age, but fuck that patriarchal garbage, especially when someone like my friend JoAnn is involved. Defying what society seems to want to do to women over a certain age, JoAnn has aged beautifully and gracefully, albeit with as much resistance as possible. Her youthful spirit used to wilt at the notion of growing older, and I distinctly remember a living room all-nighter in which all of us gathered wondered whether she’d make it to the morning, much less to the 40-year mark. That was ten years ago. When she triumphed over both, I had an inkling that she’d surprise herself, and most of her friends, by leaning into her adult years, and whether she realizes it or not, she’s made a remarkable success of that.
Life doesn’t get easier as we grow older – we lose loved ones, we lose the ease of youth, we lose the ability to physically and mentally bounce back like we once did. But oh what we gain – all the knowledge and wisdom and confidence – the genuine confidence and grace to be ok with who we are, with what we like, and with what we will not by any means accept or tolerate. That makes life a lot more enjoyable the older we get, and it’s the trade-off of letting go of some other more frivolous, and once seemingly-more-important items.
JoAnn is one of my life-long friends who has made it this far largely on her own. That has never been lost on me, and is one of the many reasons I hold her so close to my heart. Happy birthday, my friend – let’s celebrate over the next two weekends!
Just when I felt a lull in creative and artistic inspiration, along came Tom Ford returning as an honorary co-chair for this year’s Met Gala, and suddenly the pump is primed and the juices are flowing again. Fresh off his Rose collection (I won’t say which one I indulged in just yet as it was recently yanked from the shelves – shhhhh!) I wasn’t sure what hat-trick he’d pull next, but if his gorgeous touch is involved in this year’s gala, it will be dramatic and darkly beautiful.
After the traumatic disappointment of this year’s Oscar ceremony, I’m foolishly counting on the Met Gala to bring a bit of decadent over-the-top frivolity back into the world, even if it’s just for one night, even if it’s absolutely ridiculous and nothing more than an excuse to show off questionable fashion. I am desperate for that kind of nonsense, and will do nothing but ogle and ohh and ahh at whatever looks we get that night. The dress code is reportedly ‘gilded glamour’ which, considering my obsession with ‘The Gilded Age’, sounds like a tailor-made delight.
When I started working for the state of New York, way back in the summer of 2001, my office was located at the bottom of State Street in downtown Albany. As I sat in a meeting room on my very first day, I was indoctrinated to state service with a bewildering stack of documents and papers to sign, choices to make, and all sorts of spur-of-the-moment decisions to decide. The only one I really understood or took any active interest in was the parking situation. Forget the health benefits and insurance and deferred comp and retirement, I wanted to know about parking, because that was the only immediate concern I had in working downtown.
Eventually, the woman giving the run-down in my orientation reached the parking topic, and my ears perked up. I figured there might be a bit of a wait, since I was brand new to state service, and I didn’t know how much parking was actually available to all the state workers. She said I could put myself on a waitlist for parking downtown, but that it would probably be a while since spaces seemed to be opening up at a snail’s pace. Still, I had hope, so my next question was where they might be on the current list, and how many people were ahead of me.
While she didn’t know that exact answer, she did know that at the time, in late August of 2001, they were just getting parking spaces for employees who had started work in 1982. In that instant, any hopes, dreams or fantasies about pulling into my very own parking space in downtown Albany immediately dissipated. It wasn’t a big deal, as Andy was able to drive me to work, nor was it a big emotional blow, though the notion that they were only then getting to 1982 portended general state slowness in the years to come. In a weird way, I ended up being grateful for that bit of information, because I filed away the idea of available parking into a place so far into the future that I would probably retire before I was afforded a space. There the idea remained as some dim and elusive piece of paradise, purely fictional because the days ticked by so slowly back then.
I would move to other agencies, and find parking in the lots that were not in downtown Albany, but when I returned to Broadway, just a few blocks down from where I started, I didn’t even bother to check where I was on the parking list because it still felt far away. Our commute wasn’t bad, so having Andy drive me was a comfort and, quite frankly, an indulgence, as time with my husband usually calms me.
Last week, I got an e-mail at work saying that I was being offered a parking space in the covered garage adjacent to my office. Almost 22 years after beginning my state career, I had downtown parking, and this, more than any other promotion or accomplishment or anniversary, made me feel like I had finally arrived.
Feast your digits on the following links, which will each bring you to some delectable treat – some savory, some sweet – in the grand tradition of food porn exploited for 4/20. The world has gotten far too serious, and some the food posts of today are here to lighten your spirit and weigh down your load.
Let’s begin with this simple apple crisp, redolent of fall and coziness. Not out of place on an early spring evening either..
Keeping with the cozy theme, my classic candied yams recipe. These pair wondrously with ham, so for all those with some Easter dinner leftovers, this side’s for you.
Edible heirlooms – a reminder of fresh summer days.
Sinful scallops for the seafood lover in you.
Black Bean & Quinoa Salad With Cilantro Lime Vinaigrette – the name says it all.
Don’t be mad at me about these brownies – I didn’t name them.
Cornbread croutons are no joke.
Chicken and olives and oranges, oh my!
A perennial favorite at all times of the year: kimchi fried rice topped with a pair of fried eggs.
The famous (and now infamous) Ko Jello Mold.
That banana trifle allegedly from Magnolia Bakery.
Those hot hues of the Pennsylvania Dutch.
And finally, a bit of shakshuka splendor.
Enjoy your day! 
