All The Wonderful People Out There In The Dark

Some have thought I am going to re-invent myself after the marriage. Nothing can be further from the truth. Every day that I descend the grand staircase of The Palace (mirror in hand) I contemplate the look of things and think, "Bearing, girl; steady as she goes. You are mature, a Ship of State; that figure may be full, but the clothes hug it with an imperious nature. " I manage to extract the maximum amount silliness out of every day; it is like a giant maple tree of fun that I tap. No, not tap; I suck it dry. As hard as we all work at being a success at what we do here, my friends band together just about every day to laugh at ourselves, at others, at just about anything that moves.

In the end, I'm the one wearing Erte'.

The New Legion

One thing I've learned about life in a palace is that you have to be one step ahead of intrigue. With The Countess knighting boys and the reliability of Ben and the 12th in question, don't think my mind wasn't on the situation back on The Beach. I knew my absence would be the perfect springboard for some upstart so I planned accordingly.

My plan? To form a new regiment, with a new, exciting uniform. Boys love new uniforms and I, well, love my boys (as long as they are loyal). I used the trip to Disney to purchase a new and daring hat for my boys and appropriately named the new unit, The Tinkerbell Legion. As I expected, it was a hit and assured the continued loyalty of The Palace garrison. Today I have invited Jeremy to give a lecture (one of his favorites), "Why A Good Peasant Village Is A Smoldering Peasant Village". If the sight of lavander battle hats approaching doesn't spread fear amongst the peasants, I don't know what will.

The brim of a darker silk acts like a relection of Tinkerbell.

The suite I chose had every possible convienence: adorable bellhops, arsenic-laced cakes, plush carpeting, and an unused elevator shaft. Just right for someone I know.

That would provoke the Ride To The Shaft, where I would prove my love by dangling the front wheels of his chair over the thirteen story shaft. "You don't want to PLUNGE into anything so fast.", I would say. Soon he realized that the lack of alcohol was making me slightly crazy and stopped griping about my need for a Bloody Mary first thing in the morning. By day three in Prohibition World, he was encouraging me to sip the fruit of the vine. Better that than The Shaft. I don't know why Disney thinks denying decent citizens like me a stiff drink every hour of the waking day will make a better world. I am a much nicer person when I have a drink in my hand.

"Do you like Gin, Mamie?", "I ADORE it." "Well, let's play a hand." Bang, bang....

I kept telling him that I can't be a mover and a shaker AND dust.

The parrots told me (in their language), "Dump the bitch." I replied (in their language), "You're pretty and all and I'm sure you know all the doormen in Orlando, but I know plenty of magpies on South Beach and you are all squawk and no play." That ruffled their feathers, and we were all about to get into some sort of aviary West Side Story when I heard, "I can't believe you think you can talk with birds. I'm so embarrassed." We (the parrots and me) threw a raised eyebrow toward each other and sighed. Here I was being made to take twirling dinosaur rides, pose with Mickey Mouse, and eat bland circus-like food in a almost liquor-free environment--questioning MY sanity. My friends, the birds, asked if I wanted to "Tippy Hedren him", but I said, "No, the poor thing is having to much fun to make sense. Let him be."

Brian and Brian came down from Washington, DC; good friends of Jeremy, they wanted to attend the wedding.

Toasts abounded.

There was so much love in the air you just wanted to write a song about it.

Jesse Arrives

Jesse was the first of the foreign dignitaries to arrive at The Palace.

We joked about the infamous night at Twist last year when Jesse and a bottle of tequila were voted most popular couple of the evening.

Security and The First Arrivals

Our night began again on the balcony above The Palace and it couldn't have been more beautiful. A warm breeze drifted off The Atlantic, the street below teamed with Spring Breakers, and a full moon was slowly rising over The Ides of March. We headed out to the new branch of renown restaurant, Hosteria Romana, just on the other side of The Tides hotel. I love the building Romana has moved into as it stands out among the Deco buildings of Ocean Drive adding more than a bit of French elegance to our block. To our horror, Romana's license to serve alcohol had been held back and although I went on about how we REALLY came for the food, there was no hiding the grief (especially since there was a bottle of unopened Chianti on every table and none of us brought a large pocket book.) The only smug expression came from someone who doesn't drink. For the rest of us, throwing ourselves on our sword seemed a viable option, but we struggled through the gorgeous dinner even if the Italian staff was trying just a little too hard to be loud, obnoxious Neopolitans. How I wanted to give them a lesson in manners.

Dear Constanza sent a worried note about security measures and I assured her that every precaution has been taken. Jeremy returns on Friday to take control of the ferocious 7th again, Ben is leading his 12th Dragoons and Quilting Bee, Jesse is leading the 19th Jewish Batallion of Westchester, and Neil Bull has contributed his 1st Gay British Huzzahs. The Palace will be awash in uniformed young men this weekend for the first dignitaries arrive Thursday afternoon led by Jesse and our turkey bodyguard from Thanksgiving, gay Morman Dave. They will be followed by Officer Brian, The Countess Bedelia, Lahoma van Zandt and company, Bob and Terry from NYC, and The Countess du Barry of Newport, to name a few. No chances can be taken and undercover agents of The Ohkrana have been dressed in thongs and Speedos to blend in with the crowds outside The Palace gates. Rest assured, Constanza, this is one Balkan powderkeg that is NOT going to explode.

Everyone seemed to have their babies with them last night. The Palace has had Yappy Hour for a long time.

Like many adventures, last night's began at The Palace. Mattie showed up and announced that Dale Calandra, who was playing Edna Turnblad in the traveling production of Hairspray, had called and invited him to the show now playing in Palm Beach. Did we want to go? It was a dream come true. The evening I saw it here on South Beach was a fretful night and Matt kept telling me to calm down and enjoy the show (I kept rolling up my program and folding it flat, rolling up my program and flolding it flat...); he knew I was a wreck and much of the first act drifted by me in a haze. I was eager to see it again.

A Day at the Beach

Gay Beach at 12th Street was gloriously packed and I teamed up with husband and wife friends, Aura and Gregg for a day at the beach. Not an easy undertaking, it turned out to be a wondrous day in the sun complete with a splash in the surf that I missed while attending to business at The Palace. Between court intrigue and peasant suppression, I was able to make a few ventures to join the fun and take a few photos.

A crowded winter day at the beach.

As the lifeguard station illustrates, it is a very kooky beach.

Like He HAD A Prayer

I knew it was not going to be an easy day when I looked out the window shortly after dawn this morning. It was almost spooky for March: dark, purple-gray clouds and the sun fighting to get through them. I wrote, "A moody start to the day" in my daily log.

Sunday: Duck Boat Tour and Party

The Duck Boat is a huge amphibious bus that drives around town sites and then enters Biscayne Bay and tours the islands. It was another brilliant, winter day. Afterwards we ended up at the only place to be on such a day: The Palace (along with hundreds of other like-minded guys and gals.)

We all loved the sight of all the cruise liners lined up in Government Cut.

A reflection in the satyr mirror I donated to the Erotic Art Museum.