Things do not look good. Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish continues to saber-rattle and point her cannon to the North, and Countess du Barry is leading the Newport fleet to show her who is boss. It is a typical Yankee versus South confrontation about to take place; at last point, it was reported the fleet was off of Norfolk taking on coal and rum (but, nothing is ever that simple). At first I took the cable to mean they were taking on Cole Porter and fun. Alas, trouble is brewing, either way.
I have appointed a well-quipped ambassador of mine, Jose, to mediate. I mean, if you can't find something to agree about with him, there is a real problem.

We both returned to work today after a tortuous five days off; may the heavens never let the stars fall in line like that again. All eyes are on Memorial Day and just who is staying, who is leaving, and has to barricade themselves inside their chateaus. Mamie has been boiling hog fat in caldrons to protect herself from the assault from Newport, but I fear she may need it before that lumbering fleet arrives to save her lily-white flesh.