The day was spent preparing for the evening's festivities. Bree had already selected most of the wines for the tasting, and was off to pour up at Mr. Ridge's DIV celebration. I begged off actually doing any work, claiming a Migraine headache, while surfing the net most of the afternoon trying to run down an allotment of another rarity, Screaming Beagle. The Director and Sue made some food preparations while discussing how the world would work if THEY were in control.

Finally, it was party time. Bree had returned, and he and I decanted verticals of Pigini, Allegoria and Dusty Ranch Zins. Guests began to arrive, including Milan and wife Sue. Also present were a number of 'net wine operatives, including JBL, Dwight the Shark, Paul P and SFJoe, who'd flown in from Geneva. And, yes, his arms were VERY tired...

The tasting was a complete success; the wines were superb, and the company was exceptional. The Preacher and I jammed on a number of Blues and Folk tunes and even a Polka or two. Milan was enlivened by the music, and decided it wasn't worth holding a grudge, much to my relief.

It all went bad when, towards the end of the night, I disappeared into our quarters in the East Wing, returning some minutes later in makeup and earings, wearing a skirt and blouse belonging to The Director. At that point, she went livid, grabbing a pool cue from the rack and chasing me from the house, screaming something about a "cross dressing freak."

The Dobermans seemed happy to see me, and kept me warm until morning.

More later,

B