I seem to have fallen into the cycle again of coming home exhausted, falling asleep early, and awakening early; it's an annoying situation. Being up early lets me reflect on the past weekend of superficial fun, but that's what makes this town tick: dog festivals, belly shots, and drag queens engaged in hand-to-hand combat with bible-thumpers.


I can drift back to images of David Lynch and his dog sitting on our patio railing, being silly, enjoying the warm temperature reaching 83 degrees, and basking in the attention. I got this email today from the head of the festival:

Hi Alexis,

I cannot thank you enough for your help with the dachshund 'fest this year. Of course everyone loved the Weenie Martinis, your martini gear was fabulous, the effort hilarious. Of course you dragged heavy tables back and forth while we barked out escalating furniture demands. Of course you had the best looking flyer, not to mention people, especially back at the Palace.

But what I really thank you for is how, between you, David Lynch and Carl at The Wire, the weirdness of dachshund day found its stride this year. The 'fests were always a pleasantly odd day in NYC, and South Beach was evident in our early Winterfests, but finally the direction is clear. The Weenie Martinis, the carnie vibe, the accordioned Dach Song wafting in the background -- it needs to be a little more strange and wonderful every year and I hope you'll be there to make it so. Mi Winterfest es su Winterfest. I'm thinking great things could be done with the Grand March next year...

You're the greatest.

worshipfully,

Ruth Remington


The human spirit is such that in times of great sorrow or outside pressure it finds a release that will for a very short time allows you to forget those things and be--what has always been a natural diversion--silly.