I am so pleased to receive so many lovely holiday cards and family news from my friends. You know many of them.
Just to update you, Eileen Whiting, our former town treasurer, wrote from Florida that she is well and delighted to have Marjorie Convery in the neighborhood now. I can picture them playing golf while we shovel snow.
I snuck away from the family last Friday night and had a grand time, first at Louisa Gould’s gallery attending a reception for four artists, and then at the Bunch of Grapes listening to Phil Dine speak on his new book, State of the Unions.
She was a mail-order bride. Lady Angelique Beaverbrook of Vermont was sent for to be the wife of Lord Maxwell Beaverbrook of Massachusetts. Four-year-old Max had waited patiently for a companion, a wife, and another Lhasa Apso to be the mother of his children. His qualities of calmness, loyalty, and playfulness were much appreciated by the sprite-like new bride.
I want to warn you there is going to be a custody battle in my neighborhood that will make Britney Spears and K-Fed look like United Parents of America.
I’m going to blame it on Freud. The Father of Psychiatry convinced everyone to talk about sex and now no one can shut up. I am disgusted with the news coming from my Old Country, New York, about the former governor and, yes, the current governor. Being from the tri-state area, the antics of the former New Jersey governor and his wife also upset me.
