Some boys will do anything for the camera. I'm still sorting out the photos from last night; it's all such a blur.

Things that made it home: me, LPJ, my wallet, and the straw boater.

Things that didn't make it home: my dignity and the placard that I clobbered some fool over the head with.

Things that were confused: HOW we got home and why one of my cap-toed squashed-heeled shoes was on the front lawn.

I actually had to recuse myself from the wine tasting today. Yes, this lush could not get through the third taste and locked myself in my office. 30 minutes later, with Ditmar behind the bar, I ventured out and immediately became embedded between Black and Tan Mark (so-named because of his penchant for Italian fascist styling), Tiffany, a 6'3" black, drag queen, and Miles from Hawaii, a regular visitor who does business here. I was also wedged next to Matt, another Ditmar groupie who teaches Broadway shows to high school students across South Florida (have you evah, evah heard of anthing more gay?). Suddenly drinks were flowing as was the conversation; people flowed in and out like the tide with an amazing full moon rising over the palm-treed beach. I kept telling myself that it would be best to go home, but that moon kept getting higher and more lovely. Mark was telling us about how he relieves the stress of his computer consulting job by working at a farm for cats near the Everglades. I asked if they were 'big" cats, and he said, "Yes, very big. Like lions and cougars". Florida, a state like Texas where there are few laws governing behavior, is given to people who collect big game for fun and then decide that they can't keep them any longer. The farm he volunteers at houses these discarded, big cats. I asked him if the cats remember him when he visits, and he said that they very much do. His specialty is giving massages to them, which absolutely amazed me because Mark is so mild-mannered, the ideal computer nerd (ideal, because he's smart and cute). So here is this Italian fascist-styled computer nerd who comes to The Palace every day after work, and I never knew he was a massage therapist for lions after so many shared drinks with Ditmar. The next thing you know, I'll be sitting next to a witch or something.