*the gratitude-a-thon

Ok, so here’s the thing, I feel downright sheepish writing about fashion when Ukraine is under attack by a man who’s pants are never long enough and last week wore the same exact suit and tie two days in a row. So, let’s just get that out of the way, that I am not a grossly shallow person who takes joy in aiming arrows at the poorly dressed when others are suffering, BUT after a long slog with Covid coming to an end and a legit and I must say, very enjoyable award show on the telly last night, with actors free of masks (and in some cases, mirrors), it seemed we all might need a little fun. So, with my Ukranian grandmother’s can-do, let’s fight, I will protect my turf, and “Go fuck yourself” blood coursing through me, I will carry on my tradition of fashion slashin’ and you can judge me however you’d like, but please just make fun of my character and not my clothes.

You’re the worst.

Shari BelaFRUMPe

When the invitiation came, Shari only read the part about it being in an airplane hangar and thus dressed to fly to the land of What Not to Wear when you’re going, well, anywhere.

Piper PerabNO

Ode to the strapless dress. If it fits well, you’ve hit the fashion bullseye. But it appears that after Piper slipped into this body hugging white number, a very short tulle-obsessed bride-to-be who was trying on wedding dresses heard it was SAG and ran to the show to see if she could get in, but instead slammed into the right side of Piper’s body moving her from the best dressed list to the worst in the time you can say “I do.”

Jared LetUHOH

It’s 1975 prom season back on the ranch and Jared is all hyped up to ask his girl. So tired of his usual cow wrangling every day wear, Jared decides to go rancher glam in satin. Not just satin, baby blue satin. And not just boots, white boots. And not just a tie, a fucking maoron velvet ribbon long enough to ensure that his girl will not be going back to the hay pile with him at the end of the dance.

Jackie Hoffman stops at SAG on way to Target

Here’s how it went down. Jackie, adorable and hilarious actress that she is, had errands to do before her week began. She made her list and realized Target was the place she could get most of her needs met (cheap shoes, a wide range of non-prescription glasses). Of course, on the way, she was informed that the SAG awards were not next Sunday night, but this Sunday night and well, she just said, the hell with it, at least my shoes are comfortable.

Jada Pinkett should have (Red) Tabled this dress.

When you’re as gorgeous as Jada, you don’t even need hair to look glam, but that’s where the beauty ends. Did she put a tee from the Gap under this dress, because she was like, “Will, it’s cold, I’m throwing a layer on under this thing,” and he was too busy practicing his acceptance speech to stop her?

Amanda Brugel runs with scissors.

It’s a bed sheet, it’s a duvet, it’s a tablecloth. I don’t even know this woman, I just know, she cut arm holes into some white thing in her house and headed for the hangar.

It’s a big little lie that Reese Witherspoon could pull off this dress (She should have pulled off this dress).

I love a column dress, but This looked like she got some blue toilet paper stuck in her booty and nobody told her. Did she have lunch with Leto beforehand to discuss how absolutely fabulous the color baby blue is? Not to mention that she borrowed batman’s headpiece for top of this mess, I mean dress. Holy Horrific, someone call Robin.

Jeremy not Strong in the department of fashion.

God, I love this actor. He’s mesmerizing and seemintly effortless in his role as Kendall in Successon. They always say when you talent in one part of your life, you don’t get it in another and I guess we now know from his pink velvet suit with, (momentary complete loss of oxygen over here), BLACK SHOES exactly what the “other” is.

And now we move on to the style stars.

Vanessa Hudgens Tick, Tick, BOOM.

This is my idea of total and complete perfection. This dress fits like the damn winter gloves I keep havng to sport in this miserable New England weather. The color is subtle yet it’s rich and radiant. The cut shows off every curve, but in a becoming, not a here’s-my-vagina way. Her simple hair and absolutely glowing skin finishes off what I thought was the best thing on that carpet last night.

Emilia Jones, now hear this.

The bling, the black, the overlay, the super simple hair and minimal makeup scored 1,209,308 for me.

Kerry Washington. This is anything but a scandal.

Yield to Kerry, who rarely does wrong and yup, she hit it right again. The yellow was a standout amidst many darker colors and the cut was body hugging, while voluminous at the same time. She gets a hair award, too. This is how you do it.

Cate the Great, Blanchett

I didn’t like the little square poof that the waist of this dress had, but Cate is such an itty bitty person that it didnt highlight that weird part of the cut and the top fit so well and the whole deal was so simple and perfect, I had to call it The natural hair was also a homerun.

Cynthia Erivo, sing it, sister.

Bold red patent leather and feathers. Uh huh. When asked about her dress, the stunner said she was updating a look from Aretha, who she played in a movie. Update she did. This woman always brings it to the carpet, and she killed again last night.

Ann Dowd. Aunt Lydia would never.

Ann is my bestie’s sister and she is nothing if not spectacularly sweet and loving and warm and wonderful. Which goes to show what a truly gifted actress she is. I loved this look on her. The blue brings out her eyes. The bangs are a hit. The fit is great. She is climbing the style ranks as we speak. And hey, Annie, can I borrow that necklace?

I am suffering from Coldvid. The definition: The combination of how fucking cold it is here in New England and the cockroach-hearty Covid virus. Here are my top tips for avoiding this miserable malady.

1. Get yourself a coat that combines you-think-you’ve finally-gone-to-hell warmth, with a sleeping bag you’d take on an Arctic expedition crossed with a tent you’d lug with you to climb Mount Everest, and then throw in one of those old Grandma doily afghans for some style.
2. Wear a hat. The cold really does escape through your head. And with Coldvid, God knows what else you may have lost from up there (like hope and the ability to socialize).
3. Stock up on masks. Forget those cheesey cloth do-nothings and go for the suffocating KN-95s, They’re the Berlin Wall of protection. BUT, do not double up on these sturdy germ defiers, because I literally almost became a comatose sun-dried tomato in the Whole Foods line the other day while wearing two.
4. Get comfortable with becoming a recluse. I mean, we have dogs! They are really much better people, than regular people.
5. Go into the Home Covid test re-sell biz. Work your way to the top in two, three days. These elusive We’re-Out-Of-Them’s are more in demand than than the impossible to get, hand sanitizer I actually paid $100 for back in 2020, which were only available on ebay because of the fragrance–“Warm Holiday Treats,” which smelled like mom had been hitting the bottle, burnt the cookies and then the whole house down.
6. Watch every single thing that every single streaming service is streaming. Go ahead. Make it a drinking game if you must.
7. Don’t make plans. You’ll only have to cancel them. Instead make a list of the trips and events your heart was set on this year and then glory in the fact that you don’t have to do all the work of planning them. Think of the time you’ll save (to watch more Netflix)! Think of the extra money you’ll save (to buy another streaming service)!
8. Let your hair go gray. This is a time and money saver, ladies. And let’s face it, between the cashmere pom pom hats and quarantine, who the hell is really seeing us? (I, myself, will not be doing this, as I have informed my family to dye my hair before burying me, but this seems a very reasonable thing to do right now, so enjoy.)
9. Do something you couldn’t or wouldn’t do if it weren’t a moment in time when going out and having fun could make you sick. I am in the middle of an epic Marie Kondo bender. I am cleaning, giving away and throwing out the contents of five closets on my third floor (where everything we don’t know what to do with goes to die). Each of these closets could be its very own episode of Hoarders. Why that franchise has never called me is a mystery.
10. Turn up the fucking heat. This is no time to be energy efficient. Give your thermometer a workout. Turn it up and the music, make some popcorn and  chill the wine (It’s Friday night and you need some way to differentiate from the other nights of the week). Tonight start the new season of Ozark. Yup, this is what serves as a badass Coldvi weekend.

My mom died on this day 31 years ago. A lot of people have a sad “my mom died” story. I have one, too. The thing is, every one of them is the different, but every one of them is the same. There is a certain poignancy to losing that person who actually carried you inside of themselves for close to a year. This is a concept I have actually lived and still it seems like a notion from alien nation. I sort of hate when people say, “It’s a miracle,” but I do think that carrying a baby around inside of your body merits “miracle” as a description. No breaks, no time outs, no cut loose nights of too many cocktails, you’re on 24/7 for 9 months. It is one of the craziest things I can think of (and I have a really good imagination, I tell you).

Of course there are plenty of people who might feel a relief when their mom dies because she was difficult, or lousy at her mommying, or dysfunctional, or an aholic of some sort, or too judgemental, or selfish, or just a really horrible cook. But for me, my mom was a savior and a clown. She was there for me all the time. And she was funny and spirited and resilient.

I visit the loss on this day. I remember the surreal feelings, the deep in my gut fear, the way I slept with a pillow on top of my head in my old bedroom to somehow feel safe and protected as she lay dying in hospice care. I remember how a friend from high school left muffins at my parent’s door with a short note and how moving and lovely that simple act was. I remember driving the back roads to get to the hospice, passing through endless stretches of woods, driving by that weird dam with waterfalls that I’d passed so many times before on my way to happier places. I remember the thought of no longer having my mother to protect me and that I would now have to protect myself.

Whether your mom is alive or not, the truth I experienced when my mom passed was that simple fact–it is you who has to protect yourself, you who has to make merry, find purpose, happiness, love and meaning. It is you who must dig deep when the going gets rought, you who is the Judge Judy of your life. And it is her, that you can look back upon, for better or for worse, to take your cues.

I am grateful that Luigina Gabriela Rotello was my mom. She was more to me than she probably knew. (Does any mom know what they are to their kids, I wonder? Can any one of them imagine the enormity?) I miss her every day. And while it probably sounds maudlin, it’s not. It’s just love. Pure, unadulturated mother love. In my mom’s honor, tell your mom you love her today, and I will do the same.

I just wrote an entire post of my 10 resolutions for 2022 and for some odd reason, it did not get saved when I scrolled away to ask a question to the WordPress genies, and disappeared off of my site before I could publish it, JUST DISAPEARED like I wish the damn pandemic would disappear. And wouldn’t you know the site helper people are taking the day off for the New Year’s Eve. And you want me to recreate the list? Yeah, I don’t think so. And it was probably the most entertaining, fabulous post I have ever written and was entirely likely to be the biggest viral post in the history of the internet (not really, just trying to laugh this off, because right now I’d like to run around the neighborhood shrieking at the very top of my lungs, which would put me on the Brookline Tab’s Police Blotter, where some of the funniest shit I’ve ever read is written).

Instead, I’ll say this:

When I brushed my teeth, I realized I had the answer to everything right on my chest (no lewd comments, please). “Be a nice human.” is the best thing I can say in this moment. Be nicer to the people you like and the people you don’t. Be better to yourself. Be more loving, kind and patient. Give more, eat less junky food, move your body every single day until you sweat, help others, spend more time with your dog or any other animals you love (they are a secret weapon in helping us be our best selves). Help the planet, stop watching too much news, sit yourself down and meditate (only been trying to make this a habit since 1993…..), laugh as much as your lungs will allow, stop with so much social media, and focus on what you have to be grateful for– those minuscule things you can barely see unless you look closely, those big things that are so obvious you might overlook them.

Yeah, that’s it, that’s my new year’s message. Even though this pandemic is testing our last nerve, changing our lives in vast ways, we can still be nice. We can still stick our middle fingers up at these fucking variants by just being nice to one another. Happiness, adventure, love, peace and potato chips to every single one of you. C’mon, ’22, I’m ready for you, and I’m going to fucking slay you with niceness.

Jeesh there is like, a cornucopia of shit things happening on the planet right now (is there always and I am just more attuned to them during Covid–yes and no, but I do think it’s hideous on many levels right now). If you allow yourself to pay really close attention to all the things going wrong–this life-altering pandemic that keeps slogging along causing trouble wherever it goes, politics (don’t EVEN get me started), daylight savings time (dark at 4:30), climate change, which is doing us in a little at a time, supply chain issues, parents who tried to escape punishment, leaving their mentally unwell child in the worst predicament in his life, food insecurity, refugee relocation–I could keep going on, somebody stop me…..

But, the secret trick I’ve learned is that I am the one to decide whether to ingest and perpetually think about these things all the time. I am in charge of whether I allow myself down the dark and dreary path of global glop in an endless loop. Yes, I try to soothe my worried mind with gratitude–just counting the multiple things I have to be uber thankful for, but lately I have begun to see that I just have to do more than that, I have to actually allow the self-preserving act of paying attention to those things, no matter how silly, shallow or inconsequential that make me feel happiness.

I am a realist. I have never been able to ignore the bad seeds, the horror shows, the misery that humans so often experience, but I have learned, especially in the last few years that joy is needed, in fact, it’s downright fucking necessary. Without the moments that make your mouth turn up, a guffaw fly out of your face, a feeling that can well up in your chest that is part peace, part contentment, being alive doesn’t much matter.

So, gratitude for not always paying such close attention to every problem the world experiences, no matter how awful. Here’s to noticing all the small, beautiful and remarkable, making plans for the things that bring us unadulterated cheer, letting the white twinkly lights of December set our hearts on fiery exuberant fire.

HIGH ALERT: IT’S MASHED POTATO WEEK! Ok, you know it as the week of Thanksgiving, but tomato, tomato. This is when gratitude spends its day in the sun. People momentarily turn their attention to the cause, have a little chat about it during the mashed potato dinner. There are a boatload of articles about it in every publication your eyes set their sights on (Here’s a good one from Forbes, for instance). But what is it really and why should you stop yourself to think about it as not just a thanksgiving dinner tradition, but more of a daily practice that can improve your life? Well, you’re probably not surprised that we here at the gratitude-a-thon (meaning ME here at the gratitude-a-thon) have a little something to say about why.

It’s easy to focus on what’s wrong, to hang every word on that challenging fill-in-the-blank part of your life. The shit things that happen are as long as a receipt at CVS (and no wonder so many are going out of business, they’re paying too much for receipt paper, OBVI). BUT A GRATITUDE PRACTICE IS NOT FOCUSING ON THAT STUFF, IT’S ZEROING IN ON THE GOOD STUFF, ANYTHING THAT’S POSITIVE. And if you’re looking, you’ll find there is a whole bunch of it.

Doesn’t sound true, but it is true. The fact is that there is always something to be grateful for. No, really, in the most dire of circumstances, there is a crack of light that is coming through somewhere in there. And it’s that little light that it pays to focus on. I remember when my mom’s cancer had gone to the lining of her brain. It was right after thanksgiving and she was already in the hospital when I got to her. I didn’t know about gratitude back then, but when I look back, on one of the hardest, most excruciating moments of my life, I think about how she she was lucky enough to be in a hospital, how we could get her into an amazing hospice, and just every single thing that made the horrible better than it could have been during that hideous time. Good things make us feel good, yes, but focusing on them, really pointing your handy dandy i-phone flashlight on them is the big payout. Your happiness improves. Your health improves. Your relationships improve. Your whole freaking life gets better. I’m telling you, I devoted a whole blog to it!

Here’s how I do it (it’s not hard). I just make myself aware of what the good stuff in my day is. It could be the hazy calm of right before sunrise coloring the sky a soft pink right before the yellow of the sun makes its debut. It could be the miracle of a flower. It could be some small kindness someone threw my way–a smile, a hello. It could be a good hair day, the endless loyalty of my dog. It could be my husband, or kids. It could be a call from a friend that makes me laugh my face off. It’s that simple. Thats the whole thing.

The act of focusing on the good, the great, even the mediocre, but not tragic can help fuel you up for a more content life. When you turn your head for the positive and let it rest there for a while, the rest of your life looks and feels better. Maybe you think that sounds ridiculous, because it’s not a drug, or a class, or a magical potion some Glinda the good witch showed up with during your darkest moments, but this is real, studied, tried and true reality.

So, that’s my pitch for extending your interest in gratitude from one week of the year to 52. I’m not lying, or exaggerating when I say it can improve your life. This is as honest-to-goodness real as life gets. You can make yourself happier by noticing what makes your life happier. All you have to do is look. Happy Mashed Potato Day to all.

Mashed Potato Day is coming! Most people call it Thanksgiving, but you know how I am about potatoes–mashed and chipped, in particular, although really any potato you give me is all I’m about. I saw this article in, of all places, People magazine today and c’mon, how adorable is this thing between Jamal Hinton and Wanda Dench? It’s too adorable. I love it to pieces. Why can’t the world be more Wanda?

The story is that in 2016, Wanda texted her 24 year old grandson to come for Thanksgiving, but he had changed his phone and the person who received his old number, 17 year-old Jamal, got the text. After some back and forths, including selfie exchanges (rated G, get your head out of the trash, people), they realized what had happened. But then a funny thing occurred, and Jamal asked Wanda if he could still come. And Wanda said, “Of course you can. That’s what grandmas do … feed everyone,” 

That was six years ago. They’re still good pals and have met outside of Thanksgiving too–he with his girlfriend and she with her husband Lonnie, who sadly lost his life in 2020 to Covid. But the dinner date is still on and the two have created a solid friendship.

This is the stuff(ing) of gratitude. Our country is so divided right now, bonafide ugliness and lying all over the place, and here these two complete strangers from different worlds and ages came together by mistake to form a friendship. This is the best of what we can do. Of how it can go. Loving it from top to bottom. This, this is what I’m focusing on today. Wanda and Jamal.

The world is orange! And yellow and burnt brown. And all of it’s giving me allergies, but look at how absurdly gorgeous the trees are. And the light, THE LIGHT OF FALL IS FUCKING EXTRA. It is. The sun is lower and the way it hits makes everything it touches glow like lighting for an extremely expensive photo shoot. Even when you’re doing the mundane, the light is like you’re doing something special that somebody might be filming on account of there’s such perfect light.

It’s no secret that I hate the winter. Yes, I use the world “hate” because it’s just the truth. No use for the 17 layers of warmth I must pile on to go outside, only to go to an inside, like a grocery store or museum and sweat like I’m in a public sauna fully clothed. No more skiing for me, so snow, while dreamy for a day turns ugly and dirty. And who likes to shovel, seriously–anybody out there enjoy shoveling? Oh, I forgot my neighbor Marty actually loves to shovel. She does. She is a winter person. God love her for that. We are the ying and the yang of our street!

BUT, the thing is that before winter, it’s fall, which is right now. And because I went away and had myself some superior weather, plus some amazing fun for 10 days, I came back and instead of hating on this time of year because it’s the appetizer of winter, i am kind of loving the vibrance of the colors. Some of those leaves look like they have individual lighting they ordered from Amazon for a Zoom call.

So, gratitude today for being receptive to this lovely time of year, instead of being already in mourning for the upcoming frigid temps and slippery, am-I-going-to-wipe-out white pile up. I fell for fall this year. That’s not just a gratitude, it’s also kind of a miracle!