My, my...where does the time go? It is already Winter Party; basically I like this because it signifies the imminent end of "Season", something I have to come to detest. "Season" means a non-ending party, where Northerners descend upon the beach, pass on all their colds to our, now, delicate constitutions to party all night. Bob has graciously rented a cabana at the Surfcomber again; it is considerably larger than the one pictured here, as it is set up for fifteen lushes--I mean ladies of stature, but is close enough to give the idea. I have been undecided whether I would attend this year; I mean you are talking about thousands of gay men in a drunken orgy, scantily clad--if at all. I mean, it's ghastly. But on second thought, perhaps I will give it one more try. Just one.

Mamie, God bless her(for no one else will) has spending an inordinate time in Palm Beach. She claims to be dog sitting, but I don't know a well-bred dog on the East Coast that wouldn't see a week's meal in her and not attack. But this is not about her; I mean to write a multi-book tell all like Proust about that whore, hag, best friend, some day. I think I will leave The Baroness Seitziner alone to do with all her ugly chotkies dancing around her, drinking that over-priced wine we love so much. (The hit of the evening will be when that hideous, stuffed pig urinates on her. but, I digress.)

The real story is about Alva. She left Newport, Rhode Island for Palm Beach much to quickly f0r eyebrows not to rise. I laughed of the initial rumor that she was with child (and most likely one of a darker shade that even Newport could deal with) (mind you that if you read a history of Newport you would understand the open society, You could preach any way you wanted--Newport has the first Jewish temple), Newport was about commerce first, hypocrisy second

Mamie- not the most reliable of fact, informed me that
Alva had given a ball for electricity
"Good God." I exclaimed,
,.Wasn't that scheme pulled over a hundred years ago just to get my beloved daughters invited to that Parvanu extravaganza?

Well, after a two month rest--which was much needed--I am back; and with a vengeance.THAT started this morning. Being a light sleeper, I heard footsteps in the back yard and peered out to this rather motley looking character walking around the property. I immediately sprang to action, something I haven't done in two months.

I immediately took out my uniform for the Imperial Uhlan regiment and dusted of it's now gleaming sword. Yes that is me in full uniform. I figured if the sword did scare him, the uniform and my serious gaze would.
Then I had a thought. Miami low-lifes (I think that's all they produce down here) would more likely to be frightened of a machete, so I dragged out some low-life outfit from the drag box and prepared to do battle.
The the idea popped up (I have a lot of ideas) that perhaps a shotgun was the answer and--with good luck, could probably take down three with one well-aimed blast. Then the call came; it was the gardeners saying that--since they hadn't been here in two weeks--that they were just assessing the needs of the property. Now, I've seen some of the young, Latino gardeners before. Some are just a nasty as an old fruitcake. But others are luscious like a canoli.
So I devised an outfit for the next unannounced visit. It is a mostly modest dress that hides a Derringer in the apron for those ugly ones. For the cuties, I made a dress with only the least amount of thread holding on the buttons. I figure once they eat my cookies, they can tear off my dress and have a real meal. It's just a thought.

Meanwhile, I have oodles to report about what has been going on here behind my back and won't hesitate to name names.