Monday morning is usually the slot for our weekly blog recap, but I’ve been out of town, and this site may be down for a bit if the revamp of our host company mucks things up as it’s expected to do. I’ve been mulling a little vacation anyway – this winter is ripe for the quiet that might ensue. On with a recap for anyone who missed anything…

The shock of a vibrator when all I wanted was some sequins. 

Tom Holland bottomed for Henry Cavill.

Tuesdays, am I right?

A Valentine hodge-podge.

I wore the red underwear.

Rushing toward spring.

We are the worst sign.

It’s a Wordle miracle.

Harry Styles in and out of his underwear.

The Middle Ages of Connecticut.

A very styled-out Ryan Gosling.

Nothing but excited for this.

Frozen hot desert.

Are you ready for prom season?

Tom Daley in a self-crocheted speedo.

Dazzlers of the Day included Jake Gyllenhaal and Jay Perry.

For all those gearing up for not-prom season (and it’s never too early to start planning for that shit), here’s a happy little short film by Morgan Jon Fox on the subject. Brought a tear or two to my eyes in the best possible way. Happy crying!

I absolutely cannot wait for this.

That is all. 

#ThinkPink

“Midway along the journey of our life
I woke to find myself in a dark wood,
for I had wandered off from the straight path.

How hard it is to tell what it was like,
this wood of wilderness, savage and stubborn
(the thought of it brings back all my old fears),

a bitter place! Death could scarce be bitterer.
But if I would show the good that came of it
I must talk about things other than the good.”

– Dante Alighieri

There’s something ominous about using a few lines from Dante’s ‘Inferno’ to kick off a blog post about a wonderful winter weekend with friends, but the one thing that always ran through all of his work was the progression toward something better – in this case there would be no paradise without a little burn. Besides, life without drama is no life at all. 

Happily, there was only fun and loveliness on this almost-spring-like weekend in Connecticut, where I got to visit my friends Missy and Joe and their kids Julian and Cameron. They always make me feel welcome and warm, and in the midst of a winter, no matter how mild, the heart rejoices at such company. I don’t have an extensive list of lifelong friends whom I trust implicitly, and visiting with Missy is like sharing a weekend with family. 

The weather smiled upon us as well, with temperatures soaring, and a bright sunny sky of blue being the glorious backdrop for our shopping and dining excursions. Still, it was winter, and the fireplace alternately roared and settled into a slumber just as needed when the dark arrived and the cold returned. At such times, we spoke of the trials and tribulations of middle age – a lament that recalled the opening lines of this post, as the three adults fought to find our footing when our bodies were falling apart, and our minds were fatigued at seeing all that we have. 

Positing a new project, we entertained what that might look like, and with two teachers backed by a lifetime of academia, I was inspired to head back in to the creative process – something that often happens with this inspirational crew. Mostly though, our visit was a reminder of the enduring warmth and power of friendship, and the way it provides a haven in the most ravaging of winters. 

We set up another visit for spring, when at last I will make a lifelong wish come true of visiting White Flower Farm (which is turns out is only about half and hour from their home). That pilgrimage will hopefully fulfill a full-circle moment that started decades ago…

It only took 966 attempts, but I finally guessed the Wordle on my first attempt, and with a word I had never tried before: ‘FRIED‘ – because I’m working on bettering my diet and all I want is fried food. See, sometimes obsessions help us. 

Having had a love-hate relationship with Wordle over the years, this was a happy moment, as glorious as it was random, and unlikely to ever happen again. 

For those of you wondering what happens when you guess the word on the first attempt (such as the ‘Phew!’ that erupts when you get in on the sixth and final allotted attempt) I totally forgot to look, so I have no idea. Maybe it will come around again in another 966 tries. 

In the sounds of rushing water there is life, and the odd brush with the sublime rekindles memories from half a world away. Whenever I pass a stream, and whenever I have the time, I’ll pull over and pause beside the running water. It only takes a few minutes, and all I do is stand there and listen, but it makes a difference – it allows for a moment of meditation, even when it doesn’t have the customary trappings of what most might consider meditation. Being mindful and appreciating the beauty in a moment is its own form of meditation. Occasionally, deeper pondering will cross my brain at such times, and I acknowledge those thoughts, then let them go, envisioning them drifting along with the current of the water. 

Mostly though, I simply stand beside the water and watch, seeing how the sunlight might play on its little waves, listening to the way it tinkles or roars, feeling the calm it instills on its own unbothered journey. I wonder at its power and pull, lulled by its siren-like call, and somehow I feel a little better about the world. 

A stream is always worth a stop.

Further evidence of how far we have fallen since COVID: this was a recent cleaning outfit when I was in Boston preparing for a visit from Kira. A pair of ridiculously-red underwear and the top of a velour track-suit, because I was too lazy to be bothered pulling up the matching pants. Picture this going up and down a ladder taking down holiday curtains last month, and you have the illustrative embodiment of a tortured winter. 

The nonsensical match-up looked questionably striking against the bedding that’s currently in the bedroom, so I paused to capture the scene. Winter is so drab one wants for a pop of color, and if that comes from the underwear drawer then so shall it be. 

These photos are mostly for my amusement, and a bit of a tentative step back into my comfort zone (which has traditionally been walking around in my underwear). Lately I’ve felt a bit of the old creative process stirring again, that sublime time when the world whispers of a new project on the distant horizon, and hints of themes and ideas are found at every turn. The haze of this winter has been dissipating somewhat of late, perhaps a little on the early side, but it keeps me going. For the most part, I’ve been quietly embracing these winter days, taking them slowly, one by one, and suddenly we are in mid-February – half-way through the shortest month of the year (plus a leap-year day). 

It felt like springtime on this February morning…

Such winds carry the first inkling of spring with them, and the merest whiff of that fine season is enough to thrill and set the heart to hurried motion. And so I forego the black and gray wardrobe I’d adopted these past few months, and try on something colorful, something silly, something to elicit joy even if I’m the only one who ever sees it.