"...Ten Days"

Riley is back from Spain and he kept repeating this, "I go away for ten days and..." The implication was that I had let the barbarians through the front gates when I had only opened a side door with a very obvious sign reading, "Only Sexy Barbarians". I wasn't born yesterday.


I love these boys; they make "nothing is as boring as a Sunday afternoon in London" so much fun. (A quote from The Dowager Empress of Russia, Marie, mother of NicholasII.)

They follow my favorite, Ray-Ray and create such a sensation. I know--as Mamie Stuyvest Fish has noted today--that I have neglected the formal routines of The Front Ballroom for the sordid sensations of The Back. For this I will throw myself at the steps of the accusers; but, right now, all those judges are in my court.

If you can't get a natural blonde, get what you can.

Riley is going on and on about my letting Court go to hell. Hell has never been so much fun and he really has to remember that "I'm gone for ten days" equates to the eleventh day when he was floating in the pool with his panties around his ankles, to remember what this is all about.

Every thing is--once again--OK. For the first time in three months I see smiles and hear laughs that might have gone unnoticed. The Beach is still here; I just dozed off for a while.