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The Location of Wickedness

“Yet the world was a spectacle, its own old argument for itself. Endlessly expounded with every new articulation of leaf and limb, laugh and lamb, loaf and loam. Surely there was something in the world lovely enough to counter the dread of being alone, a solitary figure untroubled by ambition, unfettered by talent, uncertain of a damn thing?…

The colossal might of wickedness, he thought: how we love to locate it massively elsewhere. But so much of it comes down to what each one of us does between breakfast and bedtime.” ~ Gregory Maguire, ‘Son of a Witch’

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Post-Christmas Relief

Sweet blessed day after Christmas, how grateful I am that you have arrived with my sanity somewhat still intact! Of course, we have merely landed in that strange purgatory that leads through New Year’s Day, but the biggest day is over, and I feel no shame in rushing quickly through the rest of it. My daily meditations have fallen by the wayside the past few weeks, which is strange as this is when I need them  more than over. I’ll begin again soon, because I miss them, and they provide a calmer baseline that would have been especially helpful these past few weeks. Luckily, my healthier survival mechanisms saw me through, as did a few friends, and always Andy. He has his own difficulties during the holiday season, so when he made me an omelette on Christmas Day it was one of the sweetest offerings I’ve had this season.

Now onto the year-end recaps and all that nonsense, even if I don’t know anyone who wants to look back on this year at all. Maybe I’ll skip the year-end recap entirely – or just truncate it to a one parter. Some years are best left forgotten. 

 

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Christmas Counterprogramming

It seems that there are those who took this post to heart, and a few have already thanked me for it, so in that spirit of Christmas counter-programming, here is a little list of links that have absolutely nothing to do with Christmas. Most are gratuitous summer posts, and a few are just random nonsense to pass the rest of the day. Get your merry on, get your freak on, get your Boxing Day paraphernalia ready! Dukes up…

A Bohemian Summer collection.

A Coquette Summer cacophony.

Summer floral abundance.

Shirtless summer frolicking. 

Summer break.

Summer nakedness.

Summer deep dive.

Summer speedo.

Year-round gratuitous male nudity.

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A Christmas Message For You

This is a bit of an odd Christmas message. It goes out to all of you who may be be scrolling through your phones trying to escape your family or circumstances, holed up in a childhood bedroom or vainly trying to disappear into the corner of a couch while passers-by fail at being surreptitious in glancing at your screen. Maybe you’re at an endless Christmas dinner table, where half the people have already brought out their phones instead of engaging in conversation and you’re trying to look like you have concerns of greater import as well. 

For a lot of us, Christmas is just another minefield of social anxiety-prone situations, of dealing with difficult family dynamics, and ignoring the grievances that have piled up throughout the years. We build it up to be this year-ending finale of joy and wonderment, a moment that suddenly erases all wounds, and the hype and hoopla rarely translates into anything that meets expectations. 

For those of you waking up to the emptiness that Christmas sometimes becomes, this post is for you. It won’t solve any of those issues, it won’t change your mindset or dramatically alter your mood – it exists simply to give you a friendly nod, to let you know you’re not alone, and that this day doesn’t have to be what humankind has led you to believe it should be. There are lessons in the Christmas story that are timeless and pertinent, and they are so trite and basic that if you need a reminder of them you probably aren’t living a life of basic decency and goodness anyway. (I also find that those who espouse such religious virtuosity seem to forget those very lessons when it comes to forgiveness or immigrants or homeless people.)

It’s a reminder that though you may momentarily feel like a misfit, in whatever situation you find yourself, this is merely a day – one of many days in a year, and a lifetime – and it need not carry any more weight than what we give it. It’s a reminder that you are not alone, no matter how isolated you might feel, whether in a sea of family and friends or in an apartment by yourself, because we all feel alone at times. And sometimes the loneliest people are those who are surrounded by others all the time, because if you don’t know what it’s like to ever be alone, how can you truly appreciate the company of others? 

My plan for the day is to appreciate the moments of stillness and quiet, and carve out a few for myself if they don’t magically appear. I wish you a very Merry Christmas, and a happiness and contentment that goes beyond this finite season. 

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A Children’s Christmas Hour Coda with Chris

My friend Chris is one of those enviable people who try to make the most of every moment, packing in action and events into every single hour of living. He’s the guy who books his flights at the last hour possible in order to extend the weekend for its full duration. I’m the opposite – I prefer to hear out early to get home and get back in the head-space of the daily grind so as to allow some decompression time. There are merits to both, but on this Sunday following our Boston Children’s Holiday Hour, I decided to give Chris’s way half a chance. When he mentioned he had never been to the Isabella Stewart Gardener Museum, I went against all my Virgo grain and decided to join him on an impromptu Sunday morning jaunt to one of my favorite places in Boston

My usual time to visit the Gardner is deeper into the winter, when I’m starting to feel the despondency of the season really start to drag us down. Maybe we’re already in such despondent waters, as I felt the pull of needing to be around beauty and warmth and greenery. Orchids against a snowy backdrop will always remind me of the magic that is humanity

This is the original birthplace of my love-affair with tree ferns, where a quartet of them anchors the central garden courtyard. Scarlet accents of poinsettias, amaryllis, and flowering maples provided a new view for me (I don’t recall ever visiting during the holidays – shame on me for such negligence). 

Something was producing an exquisite perfume, but I never could determine its origin – one of those beautiful mysteries that will have to remain unsolved for now. 

With the chaotic conundrum that is Christmas buzzing in the city around us, this sacred bit of tranquility and calm, charm and verdant beauty, provided a respite and relief. Shared with a friend, it came with a solemnity that hinted at the real meaning of Christmas.

Chris and I, both approaching our mid-century mark next year, found ourselves contemplative and still able to laugh at life. Our concerns are wildly different from what they were a quarter of a century ago, when a weekend in Boston meant drinking, partying, and losing mornings and often days – absolutely no regrets, for then or for now.

When our time at the Gardner was done, Chris went on to Harvard, I was back on the dreaded Mass Turnpike, and somehow Christmas was back in my heart.

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A Boston Children’s Holiday Hour, Completely Misnomered

One of my favorite Christmas traditions for the past seven or eight (?) years has been the cumbersomely-named Boston Children’s Holiday Hour. It was originally scheduled as a quick one-off gathering when a few of us found ourselves in Boston on the weekend or two before Christmas. I opened up the condo for an afternoon “hour” of hot cocoa as people were winding around the city on their holiday touring. That original hour turned into several, and we ended up ordering dinner in and making night of it.

Since then, we’ve managed to make some assemblage of friends and family throughout the years, and now that we’ve reached 2024, most of these ‘children’ are teenagers and young adults. That doesn’t mean they aren’t still someone’s child, or that we need to change the premise at all. Some years simply make us work harder for it, such as this one, which found me stuck on the Mass Turnpike as a poorly-predicted snowstorm made driving hazardous. 

A major accident involving trucks and multiple vehicles occurred just before I reached Worcester, shutting down that section of the Mass Turnpike. In all these years of driving to Boston, I’ve never once driven there any other way than on that turnpike, but suddenly we were all being re-routed off  I-90. A holiday stranglehold of traffic ensued, which found us standing still for about an hour as snow piled up around the cars. I contemplated the empty bottle of Vitamin Water as a urinal should things come to that point. Eventually, things moved a bit, and after a five-and-a-half hour drive (which normally takes me two-and-a-half) I arrived in Boston, where the snowy scene was almost enough to make up for the ordeal. Almost. 

Braddock Park is magical after a snowfall, and this was one of the first holiday gatherings that had a backdrop perfectly designed for the cozy theme at hand. Chris was arriving that first night by train, and he sent me a picture of an iced-out train door straight out of the Polar Express. I looked out at the street below and watched as the light changed from hour to hour. The wind passed over us, allowing the snow to settle and stay on the tree branches.

The next morning dawned with skies of blue and sunlight to show off nature’s wonder. The day of our children’s holiday hour had arrived again, with family contingents from Suzie and Kristen due to arrive that afternoon. 

Chris and I headed out for a brunch at Metropolis and some last-minute shopping, and an impromptu holiday stroll of our own, where we happened upon some free Levain cookies at a luggage store – that alone made the chilly walk worth it. 

I headed back to the condo while Chris finished up his shopping excursion, pausing to take in this glorious sunny scene from the Southwest Corridor Park. Winter has its enchantments.

Our cozy Christmas gathering was at hand, and I got to meet George and Ruby, enlarging our happy circle. Just a few days before Christmas, I finally felt a twinge of Christmas spirit – or maybe it was just the love of lifelong friends, and is there all that much of a difference? Both are healing, both are soul-enriching, both fill the heart with warmth powerful enough to see us through the rest of the winter. 

This little family of friends, ensconced in a little pied-à-terre in one of my favorite cities, has become the saving grace of my Christmas season, always managing to turn around whatever bah-humbug mood or real family strife that may be waiting for me in my hometown. The night closed around us, but the festivities were not quite finished for the weekend…

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A Tiny Holiday Thread: Part of our Insignificant Series

Christmas cookies make for an acceptable breakfast for the entire week in which Christmas falls. I said what I said. (Holiday shout-out to Marline who has been graciously filling a ‘Cookies for Santa‘ tray with delicious treats for kitty for almost two decades.)

#TinyThreads

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A Recap Bordering on Holiday Joy

Coming off a weekend filled with my family of friends, I’ll keep this brief as I need to sleep (this is being written late on Sunday night after a glorious Boston visit – well, almost glorious, but that story is coming in a bit). Here’s our weekly recap as we begin the week of the big show…

A Christmas cupcake.

Winter’s approach.

The most mysterious.

Semi-annual TJ rant.

Cultivating Christmas spirit.

There was one.

You’re not going to get sweetness if you squeeze me.

We can’t all be Elphaba or Glinda.

Spray it, don’t say it.

Winter.

A warm rose glow.

Winter solstice.

Am I the problem?

A winter rose.

The holiday stroll 2024.

Our Dazzler of the Day was Terrell Carter.

All holly, no jolly.

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All Holly, No Jolly

The holly has been enjoying a banner year, much like the hydrangeas did this past summer. I’ve captured sumptuous berry displays like this both in Boston and Albany (these are from the Boston show during last weekend’s holiday stroll). Its pointed foliage is pretty with or without its scarlet accents. ‘Tis the season for these berries. Life’s little delights… little, poisonous, deadly delights… 

Don’t eat the holly.

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Dazzler of the Day: Terrell Carter

Singer, actor, author, producer, model and songwriter Terrell Carter is the sort of multi-hyphenate Renaissance man we so adore on this blog. Check out his music here, his book here, and his hot stuff here. A native of Buffalo, NY, Carter earns his first Dazzler of the Day for all the talent he has put on display over the past few years. His book ‘Problem Child’ is a riveting walk along his journey – one that continues to surprise and impress.

 

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The Holiday Stroll 2024

Somewhere along our Holiday Stroll last weekend, both Kira and I remarked that this year didn’t feel very Christmas-like, so it was reassuring to know that I’m not alone in not feeling the holiday spirit. We’re not very upset or sad about it, and we had a fun weekend together – it simply didn’t feel very much like the festive celebration our holiday strolls have taken on in previous years. Some strolls are like that – maybe we need an itinerary again… or maybe not. 

To be honest, I don’t even recall what our stroll actually consisted of – often I’ll have an idea and we’ll proclaim it as we’re walking – this year we just did our usual routine like any other weekend visit. Friday night we ate in, while an emerging full moon swelled in the sky. Dinner was a pomegranate rosemary mocktail paired with a tamarind fish curry. 

The next day we started with some shopping and walking downtown, including our customary winter treat of a bowl of pho in Chinatown. Pho Pasteur opens early, so a little after 11 we had a hearty lunch, fueling ourselves for the shopping madness. 

The weather was clear, if a bit windy. We agreed that we’d take a bit of wind if the sky remained blue, and after a several rainy holiday strolls, this one at least had the weather on our side. 

An unfortunate incident at the Newbury Boston put a damper on our spirits, but only for a moment. Kira and I are resilient to many of the ills of the world because we’ve had to be. Still no word from the hotel on any sort of amends for an episode that reeked of racial profiling. 

On our way back to the condo for our afternoon siesta, we paused for fries at Saltie Girl, because a batch of French fries is always a welcome bit of sustenance to see us through to dinner. 

Back at the condo, the afternoon light was just beginning to dim, but there was still some sun being reflected through the front windows from the former John Hancock Tower. It’s a magical time of day when sunlight pours in from the front and back windows at the same time. 

The evening before a full moon found the heavenly body herself preparing for full splendor, seen here on the right, peering over the row of houses across the street. Instead of some fancy, dress-up holiday dinner at an elegant restaurant, Kira and I went out for a few slices of pizza just around the corner. It was delightful.

On Sunday morning, we were walking back from breakfast and about to say our goodbyes when I asked Kira what the most fun part of this year’s holiday stroll weekend had been. She immediately returned her answer: “Your craziness, I guess.”

I accept the criticism

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A Winter Rose

One of my favorite plants may be in outside bloom in some parts of the world. The winter rose, usually referred to as the Lenten rose or Christmas rose in these posts, has been seen blooming in Boston in milder Decembers. I’m not sure this has been one of those Decembers, as I have’t seen it on recent city explorations, and the blooms seen here are from a display in Trader Joe’s. It matters not – beauty is beauty, whether natural or forced – each has its charms. 

Right now, the bulk of our flowers will be found in forced form, unnaturally in bloom at this mostly inhospitable time of the year. In some respects they are more precious and important now than when they come into bloom outside when spring first arrives. That’s what I mean by beauty is beauty.

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#TinyThreads: An Insignificant Series

If you find yourself asking, “Is it me? Am I the problem?” more than once or twice, the answers are likely yes and yes. 

#TinyThreads

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A Winter Solstice

At approximately 4:21 AM, we officially entered the realm of winter. Marking the shortest day of light and longest night of the year, from here on out our daylight time will elongate, gradually unfurling second by second, minute by minute, until we max out at the summer solstice. This is it – the bottom of the valley – and it feels very still, very dark, very quiet. Here is where we move in hushed tones and gentle whispers. Here is where we look up from the lowest levels of light, seeking out any pinprick or spark of illumination in the sky. Here, then, is winter. 

Several years ago I made my peace with the season of slumber, embracing its elements and using its storms as opportunities to slow down and be mindful. That is once again the intent this year. Patience comes into prominence and importance here. I find it best to focus on the days as they come rather than be impatiently annoyed and antsy at the prospect of spring’s far-off arrival. Life should not be spent in waiting but in little actions that can be done in the moment. 

While last summer began in frilly bombast (hello Coquette!) this winter begins in quiet and calm. Simply and grandly. Still waters, especially when covered in winter ice, churn with seismic shifts, making them more dangerous. Their danger is often in the unstoppable force of their immensity once set in motion. It renders the little things we may try to halt their movement relatively ineffective. 

Within every shell of the promise of peace is a jagged bit of potential for the opposite. Without that kernel of knowledge, that possibility of contrast, peace might be entirely meaningless. And maybe it is. At this point, I just don’t know. 

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A Warm Rose Glow

These roses glow differently at night, when the cold light of the almost-winter day gives way to the warm hues of candles and human-crafted light. There is only a slight difference from the pictures seen here, probably only discernible to the Virgos among us, of which I am begrudgingly one. Either way, and in whatever light they are shone, these roses are here for the final day of our Fade-To-Black fall, and stand gaily defiant upon the doorstep of winter. 

There was much I wanted – and needed – to get out on this blog, years of family secrets and a suddenly-clearer understanding of patterns of family behavior – and I barely scratched the surface. That only means it will come out in the winter, which always makes for good clickbait during those colder months. Stay tuned, and stay warm… 

 

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