“At” the weekend. That’s a so-called “British-ism,” right? Cute!
Moving on…when Sarah and I drunk dialed RivB (copyright RivB) from the Regency early last Sunday morning, we forced him to agree to fly in to see Betty with us this weekend. (Actually it might be best that Sarah and I will soon be separated by a continent.) Somehow RivB agreed, so he arrives this morning and leaves tomorrow, and I figured as long as he was going to that much trouble we might as well all spend the night at the Regency and make a real event of it. We convinced ourselves this was a very smart plan because it’s my last big hurrah, although I’m pretty sure there will be at least ten more last big hurrahs over the next two months. And why not? Live, I say! And when’s the last time I slept on Park Avenue? Oh my goodness…that’s none of your business. But it sure makes you wish you were here, doesn’t it?