The last of the house guests and housemates left this morning. They will be attending two memorial services for our friend, one in LA and the other in NYC. (My money is on the NYC event to be the most interesting.) It was the strangest of weekends, a sort of House of Usher mixed with Coney Island. One moment the entire group would be thrown over furniture sobbing and the next indulging in anything they could get their hands on. I made my famous Mexican meatloaf, too. We had already made plans to escort Henrietta out on the town, so I suggested that everyone join in. When we awoke in the morning, some of the guests were still drinking, although at a much slower pace.
Leopoldo wore vintage Bob Mackie from the Sixties and Henrietta, well, she's just total vintage; Saturday night it was a chinchilla jacket with a beaded leather dress.

One of the Stations of the Cross upon roaming through Twist towards the stripper bar is the enchanting Karloz, who's actually from Columbia and who once told me his name was spelled that way because his mother was a hippie.

I can spot a new pretty face in a dark, crowded corner as if I had night vision goggles. While Henrietta and Leopoldo chatted with Karloz, I pushed my way through the crowd to introduce myself. When she said her name was Hera, I replied, "Like the lovely Greek goddess." She sweetly smiled and said, "I bet you tell that to all the 'girls'." I really don't.

Lloyd grabbed himself a piece of chocolate, too.

And, I have only two words to say about bartender Eric: Prison Fantasy.

It will just be Mr. Astor and me for the next week as everyone attends the services; God-willing, it will be a quiet one. It is only days before Countess Bedelia arrives for Winter Party and takes control of the town away from Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish and myself.