I am home from a whirl wind festive night at the Willow Manor Ball. Actually, I'm not home, I stepped out of my dress and peep toed platforms to visit a day spa to receive "treatments"! Dancing all night has left my feet in dire need of attention...also drinking some detox teas because of my many combinations of White Russians, champagne, martini, unknowable mixture and brandy which has left me woozy beyond woozy but I have my memories...at least I think they are my memories!Willow gave a truly great bash...the faces I saw, the dances I danced (I didn't know I knew the quick step?). Oh, the food...pastries, seafood, caviar. This was such a rare treat to play with so many playmates all to the notes of a full orchestra!
The Motley Crew? The ride home in the Limo was quiet. The Dude was OUT, Robert still sipping brandy. We dropped off the Spaniards at the airport along with Julian Schnabel. Chopin stayed on in the company of Mozart, Dylan was last seen hitchhiking down the turnpike and Hannibal and Van Diesel were preparing a march on Rome...New York that is! My real Pablo was left to the long drive home and we talked, laughed and shared stories...Willow's staff packed up the beautiful tarts and we nibbled on those while drinking a thermos of fresh coffee. Truly hard to write any fantasy about myself without including Pablo...my true last dance partner.
