Wilmaism

A surreal day. It was--as usual--me. After checking in at The Palace early in the day, I picked up KiKi and headed home. Comfortably installed, I set about to doing NOTHING. I reclined on a deck chair and opened up a book I had started several months ago, "Mrs. Astor's New York". KiKi was sleeping at my feet and I even ventured into the pool to remove leaves from the filter; all was going fine until I tuned into The Weather Channel. "Hurricane, Doom, Storm surge, ....." I freaked out; this was not supposed to happen until Tuesday, but now had managed an early engagement. Just as I was trying to organized everything, who shows up but, B & T Mark. I hear another, "Hello, Mrs. Astor." KiKi--who obviously was asleep at the helm--jumped up and went for him; sad to say, but a toothless lion.

I'm wearing yellow bloomers and a sassy Armani white and blue top, and Mark says he's on his way to something (oh, something) at a community church two blocks from the house (why they allow these organizations to flourish under my nose is beyond me.) "How nice", I think. He even tries to point out to me that the lead screws are stripped from last year and that I'm getting nowhere, fast. "How nice", I think again. Then the "ex" calls and says he wants KiKi back "Now". KiKi is the last bargaining chip he has and uses it well. There is nothing I can do right, today.

After that, I headed for The Palace and the world of The Twilight Zone. I didn't know that while I was foolishly daydreaming all day, the city was going crazy with last-minute preparations for Wilma. I think they call it A Fool's Paradise. EVERYONE is drunk when I arrived at five; my ostrich features flew out of my hat in the gusting wind. The 7th was totally there for me, oh so I thought. Maybe it was the robbery in Honduras or maybe it is the lovely on his arm, but, Jeremy, MY JEREMY, the captain of the 7th, is giddy and bouncy. Call me "old fashioned", but your protector can not be running around throwing his hands up in the air. (God forbid, he even was exclaiming that he wanted a "Sweet Sixteen" party thrown for him next Tuesday!) I became dizzy.

It was at this point that mayhem ensued. I was nudged into a corner by white guys! All of them were friends, but I had never experienced this before. They all wanted to "come ovah" for a pool party when I'm feeling so fragile and vulnerable. The threat was real; if I had tried, I wouldn't have been able to touch a Latino. This is where I crashed; I slipped the bartenders something and slipped out the side door like a cad.

By all accounts, we won't have electricity tommorah at this time, but the town is safe and happy and--As God is My Witness--we will be open for business in the morning.