Our planned Friendsgiving/Reunion/25th Anniversary weekend went off as scheduled – a feat in and of itself these days. I wanted to ride the high a little longer, but Monday morning came, and with a backlog and deluge of work e-mails and issues, my stress level instantly decimated that peaceful high – another sign that eight years of work will not pass quickly enough until I can retire.
In that sour spirit, and the spirit of Monday mornings – and even the scary Sunday night before it – ‘The Meaning of the Blues’ feels like a fitting tune – and Shirley Horn’s ‘The Main Ingredient’ album will thread its hungry way through the next few posts.
Rather than sum up our lovely weekend in a single post, I’m going to try to elongate the feeling of friendship and comfort that I found during this Friendsgiving adventure with Kira. We begin with this little jewel of a moment, in which we pause before the journey. The rose bouquet pictured here was in a secluded little hallway above the lobby of the Mandarin Oriental, where we stopped for a sit-down and breather after walking much of the day away. We sat there in the expensive light of decadence, not able to afford it on a regular basis, but happy to simply brush against it now and again. We took off our coats and leaned back into the couch, content to take stock of the day, and the afternoon hour, before the darkness descended.
Rather than playing any more tricks with time, I’ll reset the narrative from the beginning, starting with this evening’s blog post, which will find us reuniting on a sunny Friday afternoon in Boston, back where it all began…
Keeping a promise made in this shirtless teaser post, this marks Glen Powell’s official crowning as Dazzler of the Day, thanks to his bare-ass posing in Men’s Health. Brought to my attention by the magnificent Matt Rettenmund of ‘Boy Culture’ (which is basically the only blog I bother reading anymore, present company included) Powell drops trou while arguably at the height of his physical appeal. Time may be a thief, but it’s playing for Powell right now. With scene-shredding turns in ‘Top Gun: Maverick’, ‘Hidden Figures’, and the ‘Scream Queens’ series, Powell consistently makes his vehicles must-see events. His magazine spreads are similarly scintillating.
The only reason for this post is to show off this out-take from the ‘Bedtime Stories’ photo sessions by Patrick Demarchelier – as we have already celebrated the ‘Bedtime Stories’ album in fuller form. This is the time of the year that reminds me of that record, when the chill of November really kicks in, and the realization that there’s no going back to summer now fills one with a bit of dread. Even the sunny days now are aligned with a bit of somber starkness – all bare tree limbs and brown, wilted bedding plants. The season of slumber is at hand.
Madonna was in a downtrodden and plaintive mood during the fall of 1994, and it was reflected in the music, and the moody atmosphere. A reminder of the Madonna Timeline entries from that sleeper of an album:
The French word for ‘saddle’ is ‘sellier’, which is the jumping off point for Byredo’s ‘Sellier’ ~ a nod to leather and all its rich, fragrant glory. As part of the ‘Night Veils’ collection, ‘Sellier’ runs a bit stronger than the usual light touch of most of Byredo’s offerings (with a notable exception or two). This one was a birthday gift from my Mom, opened just in time for September and official arrival of fall.
Along with the leather, a classic duet of tobacco leaves and smoke grounds the proceedings with dusty visages of heavy, somber smoking rooms darkly rich with wood libraries of ancient tomes and parlor palms. While the name and main thrust of this fragrance is steeped in leather, there is a minor green note (perhaps the oak moss) that lends it a freshness and invigorating spunk that makes the leather come alive.
Byredo is often notoriously ethereal, making for some criticism of its sharp price point, but the Night Veils group carries a heftier bite. ‘Sellier’ is one gorgeous and dramatic scent, bringing the crisp clap of fall into brisk focus, the way the first night-frosts elicit a clarity and shock in the morning.
This has somewhat irrationally bothered me since I could read: stores that list their hours publicly as “Open Monday through Sunday, 9 to 5.”
Yes, it’s correct, and spells it all out, but when I see certain days listed, I assume then that they’re not open on a specific day, or the hours are different for different days. In this case, why not list the hours as ‘Open Daily 9 to 5’ or ‘Open Every Day 9 to 5’. Isn’t that more appealing than reading ‘Monday through Sunday’?
I know, I’m crazy and bitter and ridiculous. But these are…
This past weekend marked a return to Boston, a reunion with Kira, and the unofficial kick-off to the holiday season with an early Friendsgiving. Allow me to enjoy this moment a little while longer… and then on with the weekly recap.
Before things get too dour here, I give you a post on shirtless male celebrities to turn the heat up a few notches while the outside temps plummet. First up is Mr. Maluma, who is no stranger to posts on shirtless male celebrities. Here, he features the body that is about to promo the hell out of an upcoming album. Maluma has been here in his underwear, sans shirt, and practically naked.
Finally, our most recent shirtless Dazzler of the Day – Patrick Dempsey – who was just crowned Sexiest Man Alive. More shirtless males on the celebratory way…
So I said, “Listen, I got…” And I said, uh, uh, somethin’ about, uh Goin’ to somebody’s funeral or something, she, I said, “Man, ” I said I said, “Bring my flowers now, while I’m living”
Bring my flowers now, while I’m livin’ I won’t need your love when I’m gone Don’t spend time, tears, or money on my old breathless body If your heart is in them flowers, bring ’em on…
When JoAnn proposed a visit to the Armour-Stiner Octagon House, it was late spring and the promise of summer laid before us in all its splendor and hope. Of course, summers don’t always go as planned, and this one prevented us from making our planned trip, as well as canceling our annual summer visit. We made up for it last weekend, transforming it into a lovely fall weekend visit, with a drive through the foliage that would have only been green had we done it when originally planned. A small bit of recompense for our disappointing summer.
All the miles cast a long shadow I’d take a couple back if I could I’d’ve learned to play guitar Told my daddy more I loved him But I believe, for the most part, I done good
The Armour-Stiner Octagon House, erected in the latter half of the 1800’s, is a marvel of artistry and wonder, and one of only about 1000 houses that were built in such a shape in that period. On this day we went back in time, a feat of magical movement that proved a balm for the soul, as did spending time with a friend I’ve had for a quarter of a century.
The house welcomed use with a double set of round stairs leading easily and comfortably up to the grand surrounding porch. I could have lived right there and been content, so marvelous were the surroundings and the view. Our day was sumptuously sunny too, and already in the 70’s by mid-morning.
There’s always sunrise and rainbows and babies And the little things I cherish on my way Even though one day They’ll bury me and Jessie Mae I just know we’re gonna ride again someday
Bring my flowers now, while I’m livin’ I won’t need your love when I’m gone Don’t spend time, tears, or money on my old breathless body Well, if your heart is in them flowers, bring ’em on
Inside was just as enchanting, and our guide told us tales of the previous owners, the renovation, and the present day functions of the eccentrically-shaped home. There was even a story of the ghostly Lady in White who was reported to occasionally haunt the space. Personally, I loved one of the triangular ‘solarium’ rooms, which was bathed in sunlight and provided a home for their outdoor palms and plants when the frosts arrived.
Glimpsing into the home of a family is always an intimate thing. It thrills us for various reasons – the notion of being let in behind the curtain, the understanding of someone’s home environment, the hints of their personality revealed in their living situation. In a house as grand as this, one seeks out little secrets of life, searching for parallels with their own.
The days are long but the years are lightning They’re bright and they will never strike again I wish I’d been a better friend, a better daughter to my mother There’s no goin’ back when your back’s against the wind
At this time of the year, they were capitalizing on the holidays, with a dining room decked out in the splendor you see here, along with some spooky touches for a haunted tour to take place later that day. The universal celebrations that we all experience in some way remind me that this circle of life is just that – a never-ending circle, repeating as it traces back upon itself. There was comfort in the thought, and comfort in the lovely surroundings.
Our beautiful exploration there felt like a visit to another time, and sharing it with a friend like JoAnn, who had been through so much in her life, was an exercise of healing, one that I didn’t fully understand how much I needed.
Generations of various families had walked and played around this majestic home, and through it all the house stood at various conditions, somehow surviving and living to whisper its tales and history through faded photos and passed-on stories. Its beauty carried on.
We listened to music on the long drive home – one of JoAnn’s greatest gifts to me has been sharing her musical tastes of the moment, and this song spoke of the moment. It was a very good moment.
Bring my flowers now, while I’m livin’ I won’t need your love when I’m gone Don’t spend time, tears, or money on my old breathless body If your heart is in them flowers, bring ’em on If your heart is in them flowers, bring ’em on
The Man, The Myth, The Legend – those words perfectly embody our Dazzler of the Day, John Legend. With a career that has successfully straddled the worlds of music, performance, acting, producing and entertaining, he is indeed the stuff of legend. Check out his website here to see where he’ll be performing next.
This fall marks the 25th anniversary of my friendship with Kira, and this weekend marks our reunion in Boston after over a year of not seeing each other. In many ways, this marks a new beginning – we’ve both been through a difficult year, and I have a feeling the weekend will be one of healing and catching up.
Twenty-five years ago we were both working at John Hancock, sharing lunch in the basement cafeteria of the tallest building in Boston, and finding our way into our early-to-mid-twenties. The picture here is from a couple years after that, when I returned to Boston in 2000, before each of us would move away to be with the men who would become our husbands. We were still so young, still so unsure of where we were headed, where we were meant to be. Something told us we were better off going through such uncertainty together.
This picture cracks me up for reasons known only to a select few – a private, inside joke among family that need not be explained or expounded upon here. A little mystery is good.
Back in the days of hosting extravagant parties and wild soirees, I would channel Rosalind Russell in ‘Auntie Mame’ to strike just the right note of eccentric hostess pizzazz to help me get through the damn evening. Now that we no longer have big parties, I get to enjoy smaller and more intimate dinners and gatherings, but I still use Auntie Mame as a starting point of inspiration.
We are about three weeks away from Thanksgiving (yeah, that left a sting thinking about it) and the start of the holiday season, so now is a good time to put a dent in my planning and preparations for whatever the fuck Christmas will be like this year. To that end, an appetizer is a great item to bring to whatever event you may be attending with friends and/or family. Below is a recipe for some appetizer meatballs that might be the easiest cheat recipe that still tastes good. First, a look at the super-secret ingredients that can be found in most decent markets (and every indecent market).
This dish once stood on a corner table, largely neglected by the crowd at our friend Bob’s Night-Before-Thanksgiving party that he used to hold in his place overlooking Washington Park. It was one of my favorite parties of the year, because it signaled the kick-off to the holiday season, and was hosted by one of the kindest and sweetest guys I know. On this particular evening, a crock pot of appetizer-sized meatballs bubbled away quietly, while the rest of the gay men ignored it, beelining for the bar. One gentleman stood nearby as I took one, and then two, and then multiple meatballs, marveling at their flavor.
It was Bob’s Uncle, the man who had made them, and he whispered the recipe in my ear: one part grape jelly, one part chili, and one big package of bite-size frozen meatballs. My mind was blown, that such deliciousness could come form such an unlikely combination. It was one of those recipes that someone clipped from Good Housekeeping or Ladies Home Journal in the 50s or 60’s, then passed down through the generations because it tasted so good, but kept secret because its make-up was so basic. Over the years, I added some additional flavoring to bump things up, but the core remains the same, and the meatballs remain store-bought and frozen, because the flavor is enough to mask any shortcomings there. Try it out and see.
RECIPE: The Holiday Meatballs of Bob’s Uncle
1 large package frozen cocktail meatballs
1 large container grape jelly
1 large can chili (without beans)
1/2 cup soy sauce
1/2 cup rice wine vinegar
1/4 cup white or brown sugar
1 Tbsp chopped garlic
Combine ingredients in crock pot and cook on low for six to ten hours, stirring occasionally.
That’s it. That’s all. Auntie Mame would be proud, even if it’s not fishberry jam.
It took him several decades, but Patrick Dempsey finally earned his title as Sexiest Man Alive for the latest edition of People Magazine, and in so doing he also garners his first Dazzler of the Day crowning. I am old enough to remember Dempsey’s sexy-star-making turn in ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’ way back in the late 80’s, and since then he’s carved out a remarkably consistent acting career. Turns out he’s also an avid racing driver – all this time I just assumed he was training for some ‘Days of Thunder’ type role.
It was the dawn of the 1980’s, and I was but a wee lad, so I’m not sure how I had such a knowing crush on such a penal code kind of guy. While audiences were going wild for Erik Estrada in ‘CHiPs’, my sights were set on his partner, Larry Wilcox. As Ponch and Jon, they made for a team with great friendship and chemistry. I thought I just wanted a partner like that; I also felt a tingling that drew me to the blond-haired, blue-eyed police officer.
Posting a picture of Mr. Wilcox on my social media, I inquired as to who others had as their first celebrity crushes. The results were largely predictable and classic, with a few twists. A few of the names who stirred the earliest inklings of attraction for others:
