It has begun already, and I never seem to have gotten my restful summer, most of which I spent battling the ficus-eating White Fly and the unnatural drought. It is supposed to rain just about every day in summer, but all we got was a relentless, baking sun. After hiring a new gardener, I was about to take a three week rest when the call came from one of the mayor's closest confidants: Would I be ready to escort the mayor again on the non-stop gay express? I had forgotten that election day is not so far away. Personally, I think Madame Mayor is a shoe-in, but I agreed to start next Friday. Pressing the flesh has always had a nice ring for me...

More pressing, though, is Henrietta's 51 st anniversary on arriving on South Beach and we had a hilarious happy hour with her yesterday. The party will be Sunday night at midnight at Twist's Bar 5 (what a convenient hour). There is already a lot of buzz about who is wearing what and just how many jewels are coming out. For one, I know I'm wearing my vintage Pierre Cardin Nehru jacket with a vintage ruby watch and matching ring (Henrietta has already dictated that rubies are the rule). We both agreed that I will start taping her stories soon. I pressed her on more information about her glorious uncle, Mario. He started out as a young boy working for Al Capone and in his early twenties agreed to take the hit for a crime someone else committed in return for about a million dollars; once out of jail he invested in Miami Beach business and real estate ventures and took in his strange nephew/niece with the understanding that Henrietta could do anything as long a she was home by eleven. The fact that Meyer Lansky was an friend and neighbor solidified Henrietta's unique status as "untouchable"; the rest is history. Her arriving at clubs in her uncle's white Rolls, her friendship with the chief of police, Rocky, the body in the back yard; it goes on and on.

Bar 5, Sunday at midnight; it will be memorable.