It is catch-up time, not that I didn't need a rest or anything (and I didn't get one). Tropical Storm Fay was one of the "wet events"; it rained and rained for days. I spent two sleepless nights checking for leaks in both buildings, making sure the pool didn't overflow, and fretting about power outages. It was those minor power outages (3 or 4 seconds, only) that did my computer in for good; luckily I've known one of the most brilliant computer techs in Miami and he was able to get me a new computer and save a portion of my files.

As far as the storm went, it was a nuisance mainly in that in came just as Leopoldo was beginning his vacation; since our visits were to be in the Keys and Everglades, all had to be cancelled when the mandatory evacuations began of the Keys. That left us with the realization Monday morning that we were not prepared for a storm and off we went to Publix, where shopping is usually a pleasure. Never, ever go to a supermarket here the day before a storm--even if it means starving on crackers and peanut butter for a few days. Cars were lined up on the street trying to get in the garage and--even worse--there were almost no carts left. Two types made up the madness of Publix that morning: Cuban housewives hoarding water, milk, and bread, and the South Beach gays who were stocking up on beer, wine, and pastries. In a bit of a daze from the weekend, I rounded the corner with the last cart and bumped into Mr. Thomas Barker. Barker had just come off a four day birthday binge and looked worse than I; "I'm not having this," he moaned. I looked at his cart; it was full of beer. He looked at mine; it was full of wine and pastry. Leo rushed around a corner and exclaimed, "They are out of lemon-lime soda!" (Obviously, things were deteriorating rapidly.) Thomas and I both rolled our eyes and vowed to get together for cocktails later (which we did, at Score as the winds and rains swelled).

Mr. Astor wanted to go to Score's Latin Night on Tuesday, so off we went to cha-cha-land. As usual, it had the energy of a thousand atom bombs (forget about wind power; if we could harness the energy on those boys' hips we'd be home free). We rented a car the latter part of the week, and--instead of traveling to Palm Beach or the Keys--did what Leopoldo is best at: Shopping. For someone who can smell a discount a mile away, having a car for a few days is enough of a vacation. He shopped and shopped until he just couldn't think of anything else to buy; what a doll. We capped off his week with another trip to Score on Sunday for it's Salvation Tea Dance; I knew it was not going to be a normal night when we entered and saw fifteen foot crosses adorning the vast room. But, then, it was Sunday.

Importantly, I also spent some quality time with KiKi, who was surprisingly lively and playful (or at least as playful as that little terror--whose favorite game is Bite the Tarantula-- can be). We also drove up to Ft. Lauderdale (not one of my favorite things) and saw Ditmar at his new venue, The Bird Cage and took Ricky to George's Alibi. Boy, can those boys drink up there. We couldn't--well Leo couldn't--drink because one just doesn't take the chance anymore. I'll be figuring out some of the new tricks of this computer and ascertaining just what was lost, but we are back to work in the real world.