Colorful Weekend

Steven and Andrew jazzed up the weekend with the drink of the summer.  Chris noted the substitution because the Pines Liquor Store had run out of Aperol!

Chris, in from Prague for the first time this summer, spent much of Friday cooking up a pot of chili.

It's much harder for anyone to dominate a three-person Scrabble game, our first of the season.

The pool looked more inviting than usual after a fresh cleaning.  The water had warmed up, too.

Even after an absence of three years, Curtis remembered how to use the float for a game of fetch.

Randy's flowers never looked better, mostly because of the inexpensive irrigation system he and Varick installed on Memorial Day.

We planted a trumpet vine last year but it didn't survive the winter, or possibly the landlord.  Otherwise it would have been in full bloom.

Varick imported some morning glories during his last visit, five weeks ago.

They finally were ready for their close-up.

And Then There Were Two

After a three-week hiatus. I returned to the Pines in muslin mufti with a contrasting blood bag.  Randy, who had to oversee installation of a CEO's office all weekend, called it #fireislandnewlooks. Christine weighed in with #ICEvictim.

Thom, as usual, snoozed while Vita tap danced on the deck.  Our landlord just put the house on the market for $1,850,000. Buh-bye!

The hibiscus is especially exuberant this year.

I briefly returned to Weill Cornell Medicine to have my bandage removed.   Afterward, I climbed a lifeguard chair near Barrett Beach for my first, post-surgical selfie.

Interesting flotsam covered the sand.

A fierce storm blew in late Tuesday afternoon.

I extended my stay as long as possible, until Thursday morning.  

Sayville is such a pretty, patriotic town!

Cheeky

I woke up like this after surgery to sew up a hole left behind by a dermatologist who excised a melanoma in situ.  It took two tries before she "cleared the margins" on my left cheek.

How do you like my deluxe room at New York Presbyterian Hospital?  None of my caregivers knew the building had been named for Leona Helmsley, the Queen of Mean, or that her pooches inherited a shitload of money!

Dr. Leslie Cohen, my plastic surgeon (the last kind of physician I ever thought I would have to consult!), removed my bandages three days after she used some loose facial skin to close the wound.  Basically, I had a face lift in reverse.

David Bowie Is . . .

A chance for a couple of tatted, Medicare-eligible fans to act silly at the Brooklyn Museum.

Better than pulling down my pants and showing off the lightning bolt I got nearly 20 years ago on my left hip, I suppose.  It graces the exhibition's orange catalog cover, too.  Props go to Pierre La Roche, Bowie's make-up artist.

I snapped a few forbidden photos of the sold-out exhibit, but nothing can catch the frisson of reading the handwritten lyrics for several of his greatest songs.  

My brain hurt like a warehouse, it had no room to spare.

Lindsay Kemp influenced Bowie long before he became famous.  I caught his production of "Flowers, a Pantomime for Jean Genet," in London in 1975.

Bowie's incredible outfits deserve the attention they get here.  He wore this one on Saturday Night Live in 1979 when Klaus Nomi and Joey Arias carried him on stage to perform "The Man Who Sold The World."  You kids probably think that's a Nirvana song.  Full disclosure:  I like Kurt's unplugged version better, too.  AND it introduced Bowie to a new generation.

A joyful television performance accompanies his Starman costume.  His musical rapport with Mick Ronson, the man behind the greatest guitar solo of all time, is incredible, gay baiting aside.  

How high were the Thin White Duke's platform heels?  At least as high as Bowie during his Berlin years!  There's even a photo of his coke spoon.  No doubt it helped keep the weight off.

Can you believe Aladdin Sane had a 26 1/2" waist?

An enormous, darkened gallery features concert performances of songs like "Rock 'n Roll Suicide," "Rebel, Rebel" and "Heroes."

I saw Bowie perform live twice, on the "Diamond Dogs" tour in 1974, the summer before my senior year at Columbia, and on the "Reality" tour shortly after my 50th birthday in 2003 (thanks, Jerry!).  He's given me a lifetime of pleasure.  Hunky Dory, Ziggy Stardust and Aladdin Sane remain three of my all-time favorite recordings, the trifecta of perfect albums.  And side one of Diamond Dogs is pretty damn fine, too.

It's wonderful to see how influential pop music's most indelible shape-shifter has become in the years since Tom and I became part of his early American audience.  Check out this "Periodic Table of Bowie." It closes a truly fabulous retrospective of his unparalleled career.

May He rest in peace.

Time takes a cigarette, puts it in your mouth
You pull on your finger, then another finger, then cigarette
The wall-to-wall is calling, it lingers, then you forget
Oh, you're a rock 'n' roll suicide
You're too old to lose it, too young to choose it
And the clock waits so patiently on your song
You walk past a cafe, but you don't eat when you've lived too long
Oh, no, no, no, you're a rock 'n' roll suicide
Chev brakes are snarling as you stumble across the road
But the day breaks instead, so you hurry home
Don't let the sun blast your shadow
Don't let the milk float ride your mind
You're so natural, religiously unkind
Oh no, love, you're not alone
You're watching yourself, but you're too unfair
You got your head all tangled up, but if I could only make you care
Oh no, love, you're not alone
No matter what or who you've been
No matter when or where you've seen
All the knives seem to lacerate your brain
I've had my share, I'll help you with the pain
You're not alone
Just turn on with me, and you're not alone
Let's turn on and be not alone
Gimme your hands, 'cause you're wonderful
Gimme your hands, 'cause you're wonderful
Oh, gimme your hands

Hello, Dagny!

I met Dagny Hon Lazar in Bernardsville.  My tiny namesake is just five weeks old!  As you can see, Moofy is handling the addition to family stoically.

Audrey hates social media so I had to settle for her footwear.  Dagny has big shoes to fill in two generations! 

Magda is very glad to be home because Audrey gives her a brief respite from the demands of first-time motherhood.

High on the Hog

Midday heat demands air conditioning in south Florida, so you either stay indoors or shop.   But not here.

Thom and I had hit Nordstrom Rack earlier in our visit but neither of us had patronized the high end shops in Palm Beach.  While he agonized over the selection of $135 flip flops (on sale!) at Neiman Marcus, Christine and I enjoyed a free beverage, branded of course.  

Thousands of silk butterflies hung above the department store's escalators.

We also took a leisurely stroll along a nearly empty Worth Avenue.

 

Afterward, we drove to The Breakers for drinks and tapas, where we'd had a miserable experience getting a table last December.  There's definitely something to be said for off-season.

Our over-the-top bar crawl began in the Seafood Bar, which overlooks the Atlantic and where the well-trained staff delivers the bill in a wood wallet.

The blue crab nachos were deeelish.

And the lemon drop martini--mixed with an Episcopalian proportion of alcohol--helped me forget how much they cost.  Bottoms up--thanks, Christine!

We polished off another round of drinks and five plates, including two desserts as rich as the crowd, at HMF.  An i-Phone 5 camera just couldn't capture the beauty of the grand Florentine room without a flash.  Self consciousness didn't afflict me outside, however.

I'm sitting on the edge of our Mustang convertible.  It projects this iconic image on the pavement when you open the door!