Wanna wash a house?

How about getting your string trimmer out and doing that while I wash the house? I got the grass cut yesterday but the string in the electric trimmer gave out, so before I do anything else it'll be off to Homo Depot for nylon string so I can finish that job. Before that, though, I have to write my weekly piece for the Rainbow Room, which is percolating away as I tap the keys here. (Multitasking? I guess so. I also have an email thread going!)

One thing we learned on our trip south last weekend is that our new North Carolina neighborhood is populated with folks from the first wave of retiring boomers, enjoying their just-retired re-adolescence, challenging their aging livers with hearty parties. I watched my parents go through that stage in their early 60s; they really had fun--but we've already done that regular Friday Happy Hour thing here, while we were in our 50s, and have seen the damage too much alcohol can do not only to individual bodies but to relationships as well. Don't get me wrong--we're as sociable and fun as the next guys, but we may be sitting some things out. We won't be building a 20-foot-square "party pier," for instance, so neighbors can tool around in their boats and pier-hop from drink to drink. Sounds fun, but been there, done that (or the equivalent...) (And we can't afford such a huge pier.)

Guess we'll be the standoffish gay guys. Not to worry. I'll wow 'em with my food!