So Smooth, So Rich, So Ruthless

The Three Sisters

Three sisters opened their new house in the Pines (there's a fourth sister, too, but she's a broad until Memorial Day.  And a younger half-sister, a New England blue blood who deigns to visit only once a month).

 

492 Tarpon is a shaded, three-tiered gem that sits on the Great South Bay.  It's the first house we've ever occupied where all the bedrooms are the same size and offer equally lovely aspects.

Gifts from guests past (the bowls on the bottom shelf) complement the nautical decor.

You can't beat the sunsets.

The ants followed us from our last house.

The temperature dropped to 42 degrees.  I can't remember ever being colder at the beach!

Too bad the fire lasted only about as long as it took to take this picture.  Burma Road offered a beautiful place to scavenge wood as the sun went down but the logs weren't quite dry enough to burn.

Even the flamingoes huddled together for warmth.  Look carefully and you'll see color of their plumage denotes the year.

The chill didn't stop me from exploring.

The Grove never fails to charm with its tackiness.

Heels only hang on this shoe tree.

New owners must have renamed this house as a reflection of the family values sweeping through the gay community.

Here's what it used to be called:

A fresh paint job can spruce up even the most mildewed dump.  "A Private Residence"--who are they kidding?

Retirees have more to do in the Grove, too!

One down and nine to go.

Bittersweet

Doug, my 84-year-old cousin recently moved to the Beth Shalom assisted living facility in Richmond.  I last saw him in Roanoke, five years ago.  He said the funniest thing when a staff member asked him why so many people love him so much.  "Don't stay too long!"

Bolt Bus got me as far as DC's Union Station where Christine lent me her trusty Toyota Acura to make the rest of the trip.

After seeing Doug, Cathy and Scott, his children and my first cousins, once removed, took me to lunch at an Italian restaurant.  We don't know each other well, but we had a good time reminiscing about our parents and grandparents.  Doug is the only one of the group still alive.

Back in DC, Christine and I went to the Kennedy Center to see Bowie & Queen.  The less said the better about the performance.  Balletomanes may have appreciated it more than Bowie fans.

You can't go to Washington without passing a few monuments.

 I'd never seen either the FDR or Martin Luther King Memorials.

I'd hoped to indulge my passion for cemeteries at Arlington, but time constraints forced this dyed-in-the-wool peacenik to settle for the Iwo Jima Memorial.

Urban Reinvention

Manhattan constantly reinvents itself.  Midtown on the west side is the latest arena.

Soon enough, west will mirror east.