Gala Day Quotes

Consider, if you will, the morning boner. What a metaphor of hope and renewal! How can anyone give way to despair when one’s groin greets each day with such a gala spectacle of physical optimism?

This is a day of celebration! Today, we are divorcing the past and marrying the present. Dance, and you will find God in every room. Today, we are divorcing resentment and marrying forgiveness. Sing, and God will find you in every tune. Today, we are divorcing indifference and marrying love. Drink, and play that tambourine against your thighs. We have so much celebrating to do!

I remembered the bright silks and sparkling faces I had seen that day, in gala trim, swan-like sailing down the Mississippi of Broadway; and I contrasted them with the pallid copyist, and thought to myself, Ah, happiness courts the light, so we deem the world is gay; but misery hides aloof, so we deem that misery there is none.

This is a GALA day for you. Answer: Well, a GAL a day is enough for me!

Opening night is in a week. Already announced to the papers, already sent out in the newsletter in fancy, glossy, full-color glory. Which means I have two days, max, to finish the framing—easily a week’s worth of work—and then four days for drilling the star maps I’ve already marked on the plywood, painting, wiring, installing, and finessing.Leaving me only one day—the day of the evening gala—to clean and get the actual exhibits set up. It’s impossible. I will make it happen or die trying. I don’t realize I’ve said that last part aloud until I notice Michelle’s horrified face.

The famous courtesan Clarimonde died recently, as the result of an orgy which lasted eight days and eight nights. It was something infernally magnificent. They revived the abominations of the feasts of Belshazzar and Cleopatra. Great God! what an age this is in which we live! The guests were served by swarthy slaves speaking an unknown tongue, who to my mind had every appearance of veritable demons; the livery of the meanest among them might have served as a gala-costume for an emperor. There have always been current some very strange stories concerning this Clarimonde, and all her lovers have come to a miserable or a violent end. It has been said that she was a ghoul, a female vampire; but I believe that she was Beelzebub in person.

I open the door and find my friend sitting on his bed, holding an ancient book gently by its spine. His smooth features ripple into a smile when he sees it is me. “I thought you were Tactus come to beg me to shoot some stims before the gala. He always thinks because I’m reading, I’m not doing anything. There is no greater plague to an introvert than the extroverted. Especially that beast. He will run himself into the ground one of these days.

Then Anomander turned to Gripp Galas. ‘Old friend, long have you served me, with valour and with honour. As my most trusted servant I have set my weight upon you, and not once heard from you a word of complaint. You have dressed my wounds on the field of battle. You have mended the damage of my clumsy youth. Did you truly believe that now, on this fraught day, I would once more draw tight this leash? We are all weakened by distress, and indeed it seems every tender emotion lies exposed and trembling to a forest of knives. Gripp Galas, old friend, your service to me ends here and it ends now. You have won the heart of a woman who in all things is nothing less than breathtaking. If love needs permission, I give it. If your future with Lady Hish can be served by any sacrifice within my ability, I give it.’ He set his gaze upon Hish Tulla. ‘Nothing need be asked and nothing need be surrendered by you, my lady. On this, of all days, I will see love made right.’ He swung into the saddle. ‘Go well, my friends. We are done here.

I was Pittsburgh Young, Black, and Successful. Pittsburgh Young, Black, and Successful meant Friday evenings downstairs at Savoy in the Strip District, and perhaps a table upstairs if it was your birthday. It meant Alpha and Que boat rides, NEED Scholarship dinners, and Ronald H. Brown Leadership Awards galas. It meant a stint on the Urban League Young Professionals executive board. It meant brunches at the LeMont on Mother’s Day and the Grand Concourse when you wanted to stunt. It meant frequent pictures in the Post-Gazette and the City Paper

Why do I know this song?” I ask him. His voice is low, like a whisper of a rumble. “It was the first song we danced to at the gala. An instrumental version of Wildest Dreams.” “You remembered that?” “Kelsey,” he says softly, “I remember everything that involves you. Everything. From what you wore the very first day I met you—a blue turtleneck dress—to the way you smelled when we shared an elevator for the first time—like vanilla and brown sugar—to the way you tasted the first time I had a chance to be intimate with you—like a fucking sunset on a rainy day. This song . . . it was engrained in my brain, and I just hoped that I’d get a chance to play it for you again one day.

I had to pull columnist George Will out of a baseball game—like yanking Hemingway out of a bar—to correct one misattributed quote, and berate blogger Josh Rogin for recording a public talk between Jeffrey Goldberg and me in a synagogue, on Yom Kippur. Most miffing was the book This Town, a pillorying of well-connected Washingtonians by The New York Times’s Mark Leibovich. The only thing worse than being mentioned in Mark’s bestselling book was not being mentioned in it. I merited much of a paragraph relating how, at the Christmas party of media grandees Ben Bradlee and Sally Quinn, I “hovered dangerously over the buffet table, eyeing a massive Christmas ham.” But Nathan Guttman, a reporter for The Jewish Daily Forward, changed the word “eyeing” to “reaching for,” insinuating that I ate the ham. Ironically, the embassy employed Nathan’s caterer wife to cook gala kosher dinners. George Will graciously corrected the quote and Josh Rogin apologized. The Jewish Daily Forward printed a full retraction. Yet, in the new media age, old stories never vanish. A day after the Forward’s faux pas, I received several angry phone calls from around the United States. “You should be ashamed of yourself!” they remonstrated. “The Israeli ambassador eating trief? In public? On Christmas?” I tried to defend myself—“I didn’t eat it, I eyed it”—but fruitlessly. Those calls reminded me that, more complex than many of the issues I faced in the press, and often more explosive, was the minefield of American Jewry.

Elizabeth glanced up as Ian handed her a glass of champagne. “Thank you,” she said, smiling up at him and gesturing to Duncan, the duke, and Jake, who were now convulsed with loud hilarity. “They certainly seem to be enjoying themselves,” she remarked. Ian absently glanced the group of laughing men, then back at her. “You’re breathtaking when you smile.” Elizabeth heard the huskiness in his voice and saw the almost slumberous look in his eyes, and she was wondering about its cause when he said softly, “Shall we retire?” That suggestion caused Elizabeth to assume his expression must be due to weariness. She, herself, was more than ready to seek the peace of her own chamber, but since she’d never been to a wedding reception before, she assumed that the protocol must be the same as at any other gala affair-which meant the host and hostess could not withdraw until the last of the guests had either left or retired. Tonight, every one of the guest chambers would be in use, and tomorrow a large wedding breakfast was planned, followed by a hunt. “I’m not sleepy-just a little fatigued from so much smiling,” she told him, pausing to bestow another smile on a guest who caught her eye and waved. Turning her face up to Ian, she offered graciously, “It’s been a long day. If you wish to retire, I’m sure everyone will understand.” “I’m sure they will,” he said dryly, and Elizabeth noted with puzzlement that his eyes were suddenly gleaming. “I’ll stay down here and stand in for you,” she volunteered. The gleam in his eyes brightened yet more. “You don’t think that my retiring alone will look a little odd?” Elizabeth knew it might seem impolite, if not precisely odd, but then inspiration struck, and she said reassuringly, “Leave everything to me. I’ll make your excuses if anyone asks.” His lips twitched. “Just out of curiosity-what excuse will you make for me?” “I’ll say you’re not feeling well. It can’t be anything too dire though, or we’ll be caught out in the fib when you appear looking fit for breakfast and the hunt in the morning.” She hesitated, thinking, and then said decisively, “I’ll say you have the headache.” His eyes widened with laughter. “It’s kind of you to volunteer to dissemble for me, my lady, but that particular untruth would have me on the dueling field for the next month, trying to defend against the aspersions it would cause to be cast upon my…ah…manly character.” “Why? Don’t gentlemen get headaches?” “Not,” he said with a roguish grin, “on their wedding night.” “I can’t see why.” “Can you not?” “No. And,” she added with an irate whisper, “I don’t see why everyone is staying down here this late. I’ve never been to a wedding reception, but it does seem as if they ought to be beginning to seek their beds.” “Elizabeth,” he said, trying not to laugh. “At a wedding reception, the guests cannot leave until the bride and groom retire. If you look over there, you’ll notice my great-aunts are already nodding in their chairs.” “Oh!” she exclaimed, instantly contrite. “I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” “Because,” he said, taking her elbow and beginning to guide her from the ballroom, “I wanted you to enjoy every minute of our ball, even if we had to prop the guests up on the shrubbery.

STUFFIN’ MUFFINS Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position. 4 ounces salted butter (1 stick, 8 Tablespoons, ¼ pound) ½ cup finely chopped onion (you can buy this chopped or chop it yourself) ½ cup finely chopped celery ½ cup chopped apple (core, but do not peel before chopping) 1 teaspoon powdered sage 1 teaspoon powdered thyme 1 teaspoon ground oregano 8 cups herb stuffing (the kind in cubes that you buy in the grocery store—you can also use plain bread cubes and add a quarter-teaspoon more of ground sage, thyme, and oregano) 3 eggs, beaten (just whip them up in a glass with a fork) 1 teaspoon salt ½ teaspoon black pepper (freshly ground is best) 2 ounces (½ stick, 4 Tablespoons, pound) melted butter ¼ to ½ cup chicken broth (I used Swanson’s) Hannah’s 1st Note: I used a Fuji apple this time. I’ve also used Granny Smith apples, or Gala apples. Before you start, find a 12-cup muffin pan. Spray the inside of the cups with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray OR line them with cupcake papers. Get out a 10-inch or larger frying pan. Cut the stick of butter in 4 to 8 pieces and drop them inside. Put the pan over MEDIUM heat on the stovetop to melt the butter. Once the butter has melted, add the chopped onions. Give them a stir. Add the chopped celery. Stir it in. Add the chopped apple and stir that in. Sprinkle in the ground sage, thyme, and oregano. Sauté this mixture for 5 minutes. Then pull the frying pan off the heat and onto a cold burner. In a large mixing bowl, combine the 8 cups of herb stuffing. (If the boxed stuffing you bought has a separate herb packet, just sprinkle it over the top of the mixture in your frying pan. That way you’ll be sure to put it in!) Pour the beaten eggs over the top of the herb stuffing and mix them in. Sprinkle on the salt and the pepper. Mix them in. Pour the melted butter over the top and mix it in. Add the mixture from your frying pan on top of that. Stir it all up together. Measure out ¼ cup of chicken broth. Wash your hands. (Mixing the stuffing is going to be a lot easier if you use your impeccably clean hands to mix it.) Pour the ¼ cup of chicken broth over the top of your bowl. Mix everything with your hands. Feel the resulting mixture. It should be softened, but not wet. If you think it’s so dry that your muffins might fall apart after you bake them, mix in another ¼ cup of chicken broth. Once your Stuffin’ Muffin mixture is thoroughly combined, move the bowl close to the muffin pan you’ve prepared, and go wash your hands again. Use an ice cream scoop to fill your muffin cups. If you don’t have an ice cream scoop, use a large spoon. Mound the tops of the muffins by hand. (Your hands are still impeccably clean, aren’t they?) Bake the Stuffin’ Muffins at 350 degrees F. for 25 minutes. Yield: One dozen standard-sized muffins that can be served hot, warm, or at room temperature. Hannah’s 2nd Note: These muffins are a great accompaniment to pork, ham, chicken, turkey, duck, beef, or . . . well . . . practically anything! If there are any left over, you can reheat them in the microwave to serve the next day. Hannah’s 3rd Note: I’m beginning to think that Andrea can actually make Stuffin’ Muffins. It’s only April now, so she’s got seven months to practice.

This is not to say that he was not qualified, though he concealed his beginnings as a scullion, to lend a hand like anyone else. It required some exceptional circumstance nevertheless to induce him one day to carve the turkeys himself. I was out, but I heard afterwards that he carved them with a sacerdotal majesty, surrounded, at a respectful distance from the service-table, by a ring of waiters who, endeavouring thereby not so much to learn the art as to curry favour with him, stood gaping in open-mouthed admiration. The manager, however, as he plunged his knife with solemn deliberation into the flanks of his victims, from which he no more deflected his eyes, filled with a sense of his high function, than if he were expecting to read some augury therein, was totally oblivious of their presence. The hierophant was not even conscious of my absence. When he heard of it, he was distressed: “What, you didn’t see me carving the turkeys myself?” I replied that having failed, so far, to see Rome, Venice, Siena, the Prado, the Dresden gallery, the Indies, Sarah in Phèdre, I had learned to resign myself, and that I would add his carving of turkeys to my list. The comparison with the dramatic art (Sarah in Phèdre) was the only one that he seemed to understand, for he had learned through me that on days of gala performances the elder Coquelin had accepted beginners’ roles, even those of characters who had only a single line or none at all. “All the same, I’m sorry for your sake. When shall I be carving again? It will need some great event, it will need a war.” (It needed the armistice, in fact.) From that day onwards, the calendar was changed, and time was reckoned thus: “That was the day after the day I carved the turkeys myself.” “It was exactly a week after the manager carved the turkeys himself.” And so this prosectomy furnished, like the Nativity of Christ or the Hegira, the starting point for a calendar different from the rest, but neither so extensively adopted nor so long observed.

The Comte de Chagny was right; no gala performance ever equalled this one. All the great composers of the day had conducted their own works in turns. Faure and Krauss had sung; and on that evening, Christine Daaé had revealed her true self, for the first time, to the astonished and and enthusiastic audience. Gounod had conducted the Funeral March of a Marionette; Reyer, his beautiful overture to Siguar; Saint Saëns, the Danse Macabre and a Rêverie Orientale, Massenet, an unpublished Hungarian march; Guiraud, his Carnaval; Delibes, the Valse lente from Sylvia and the Pizzicati from Coppelia. Mlle. Krauss had sung the bolero in the Vespri Siciliani; and Mlle. Denise Bloch the drinking song in Lucrezia Borgia. But the real triumph was reserved for Christine Daaé, who had begun by singing a few passages from Romeo and Juliet. It was the first time that the young artist sang in this work of Gounod, which had not been transferred to the Opera and which was revived at the the old Theatre Lyrique by Mme. Carvalho. Those who heard her say that her voice, in these passages, was seraphic; but this was nothing to the superhuman notes that she gave forth in the prison scene and the final trio in Faust, which she sang in the place of La Carlotta, who was ill. No one had ever heard or seen anything like it. Daaé revealed a new Margarita that night, a Margarita of a splendor, a radiance hitherto unsuspected. The whole house went mad, rising to it its feet, shouting, cheering, clapping, while Christine sobbed and fainted in the arms of her fellow-singers and had to be carried to her dressing-room. A few subscribers, however, protested. Why had so great a treasure been kept from them all that time? Till then, Christine Daaé had played a good Siebel to Carlotta's rather too splendidly material Margarita. And it had needed Carlotta's incomprehensible and inexcusable absence from this gala night for the little Daaé, at a moment's warning, to show all that she could do in a part of the programme reserved for the Spanish diva! Well, what the subscribers wanted to know was, why had Debienne and Poligny applied to Daaé, when Carlotta was taken ill? Did they know of her hidden genius? And, if they knew of it, why had they kept it hidden? And why had she kept it hidden? Oddly enough, she was not known to have a professor of singing at that moment. She had often said she meant to practice alone for the future. The whole thing was a mystery.

Good luck. For most of my generation, it would just go to student debt and cocktails. If anything came to me (an impossibility), I would dump it into a poorly managed career in edgy luxury items. You can’t make opera money on perfume that smells like cunts and gasoline. At any rate, I didn’t usually make an appearance beyond the gala. Or, I hadn’t until recently. But Joseph Eisner had promised me a fortune, and now he wouldn’t take my calls. He did, however, like his chamber music. It had been an acquired taste for me. In my distant undergraduate past, when circumstance sat me in front of an ensemble, I spent the first five minutes of each concert deciding which musician I would fuck if I had the chance, and the rest shifting minutely in my seat. I still couldn’t stand Chanel. And while I had learned to appreciate—indeed, enjoy—chamber ensembles, orchestras, and on occasion even the opera, I retained my former habit as a dirty amusement to add some private savor to the proceedings. Tonight, it was the violist, weaving and bobbing his way through Dvořák’s Terzetto in C Major like a sinuous dancer. I prefer the romantics—fewer hair-raising harmonies than modern fare, and certainly more engaging than funereal baroque. The intriguing arrangement of the terzetto kept me engaged, in that slightly detached and floating manner engendered by instrumental performance. Moreover, the woman to my left, one row ahead, was wearing Salome by Papillon. The simple fact of anyone wearing such a scent in public pleased me. So few people dared wear anything at all these days, and when they did, it was inevitably staid: an inoffensive classic or antiseptic citrus-and-powder. But this perfume was one I might have worn myself. Jasmine, yes, but more indolic than your average floral. People sometimes say it smells like dirty panties. As the trio wrapped up for intermission, I took a steadying breath of musk and straightened my lapels. The music was only a means to an end, after all.

May 15–16: Marilyn arrives punctually and works through the customary starts and stops of production without complaint. She watches the rushes and realizes that she is “sensational”—to employ the word the film’s editor, David Bretherton, uses when she asks him about her performance and appearance. But she angers Cukor, who learns of her criticisms of his shooting style. Marilyn’s lawyers are notified they will receive a letter from Fox stating that she will be in breach of her contract if she attends the birthday gala for President Kennedy.

Ordinarily, such extravagance would have made them feel awkward and small, peasants in the presence of gentry. Indeed, it would make them feel exactly as this woman had intended them to feel. But not today. In light of recent experience, these insulated, rarified people put Zuzana in mind of expensive shoes kept in their box the three hundred and sixty-two days of the year when they weren’t being worn. Wrapped in tissue, safe from harm, and all they knew of life was gala events and the inside of the box. How dull. How dumb. By contrast, the grime of her journey, the outré inappropriateness of the state of her, it felt like armor. I earned this dirt. Respect. The dirt. “That’s

Entertaining is a way of life for the Southern girl. We’ve been doing it for over three hundred years now, and we’re not too shy to say we’re just about the best in the world at it. There really doesn’t have to be an occasion to entertain in the South. Just about any excuse will do, from the anniversary of your friend’s divorce (a “comfort” party) to national flag day (Southern girls are always eager to show the flag the respect it’s due). Parties in the South have always been big affairs. In pre--Civil War days, it was a long way between plantations on bad roads (or no roads at all), so parties lasted for days on end. The hostess spared no expense, with lavish dances, beautiful dresses, and meals that went on and on, with all the best dishes the South had to offer: from whole roast pig to wild game stew. After all, plantation parties were a circuit. You might go to twenty parties a year, but you were only going to throw one--so you better make it memorable, darlin’. Grits work hard to keep this tradition alive. The Junior League and Debutante balls are not just coming out parties for our daughters, god bless them, they are the modern version of old Southern plantation balls. The same is true of graduation, important birthdays, yearly seasonal galas, and of course our weddings.

The Union of South Africa divided the functionality of government between Cape Town and Pretoria. Cape Town was the Administrative Capital and Pretoria served as the Legislative Capital. Consequently, many of the politicians divided their time between the two cities and there were always gala events in both cities. Lucia was the perfect hostess at home and the belle of the ball at Events of State and formal holiday parties. The dividing line between the “swells” and those of a lower standing was very apparent. The blacks were at the very bottom of the list and the privileged few were at the top. Apartheid was alive and well! The social structure was very much the same as it was in the American Deep South in Antebellum days and in both cases became accepted as normal. For Uncle Mannie and Aunty Lucia life was beyond good. They lived in a beautiful home and their every need was tended to by their servants, who were always treated well, but were never the less thought of as subservient to them. It was the established way of life and it was just the way it was. Written and unwritten rules regarding their interaction were strict but accepted and no one objected to them. Every day the commuter trains brought the black laborers into the city to work, mostly in the mines. The more privileged Caucasian men planed their ongoing business transactions and expansion in wealth at their exclusive clubs, while their wives socialized, organizing charitable events. Frequently to break the monotony of their daily lives they colluded clandestinely with lovers, thereby enhancing an otherwise affluent but shallow existence.

Secretly, Ray was a rotten celebrity. He never got used to it, never learned to take it for granted. The photos and adulation and program signing always made him uncomfortable, and after the theft he never ordered room service again. Every day, no matter where he was, he’d find a busker or someone on the street and leave money or help otherwise when he could. He was making a great deal of money and giving a lot of it away as quickly as he got it. He played charity concerts for several different organizations. He loved Kelly Hall-Tompkins’s Music Kitchen, a charity that organized musicians to serve food and play in soup kitchens, and he often volunteered—both to play and to serve the guests. Another charity bought instruments for students who couldn’t afford to buy their own: at the inaugural fundraising gala, he played for free, enlisted several musicians—Wynton Marsalis and Trombone Shorty—and donated a hundred thousand dollars to the cause.

I once had an artist in the old days who was so nervous he threw up during the gala opening of the show. The reviews read, ‘artwork so bad, even the artist couldn’t stomach it.’ We

Really to die and to be with Christ will be a gala day’s enjoyment compared with our misery when a worse than physical death has cast its dreadful shadow over us. Death would be welcome as a relief by those whose depressed spirits make their existence a living death. Are good men ever permitted to suffer thus? Indeed they are; and some of them are even all their lifetime subject to bondage.... It is a sad case when our only hope lies in the direction of death, our only liberty of spirit amid the congenial horrors of corruption.... He felt as if he were utterly forgotten as those whose carcasses are left to rot on the battlefield. As when a soldier, mortally wounded, bleeds unheeded amid the heaps of slain, and remains to his last expiring groan, unpitied and unsuccoured, so did Heman sigh out his soul in loneliest sorrow, feeling as if even God Himself had quite forgotten him. How low the spirits of good and brave man will sometimes sink. Under the influence of certain disorders everything will wear a somber aspect, and the heart will dive into the profoundest deeps of misery.

Talking Dog One day, while driving in the country, a man noticed a sign that said “Talking Dog for Sale.”  The sign pointed to a farm house off the road just a bit.  The man’s interest was piqued so he pulled off the road and headed up to the farm house. When he got there and inquired about the talking dog, the farmer told him the talking dog was around the back of the farm house.  The farmer said the man was welcome to go in back and talk with the dog. The man was in a serious state of disbelief, because he knew dogs couldn’t talk.  Still he was very curious so he headed around to the backyard. In the backyard the man noticed a poodle that quickly came up to him.  The man thought to himself, “Hmmm poodles are supposed to be smart dogs.” “Can you really talk?” the man asked the poodle. “I sure can,” replied back the poodle. “Wow,” exclaimed the man.  Wanting to hear more he asked, “So what’s your story?” “I discovered I could talk when I was very young,” said the poodle.  “I knew I had a real gift so I thought I should do something about it.  I joined the CIA and became one of their very best spies.  I was sent on many secret missions.  I traveled all around the world and was involved in many interesting and intriguing cases. I even helped save the life of the President on two occasions. After eight years I got tired of all the jetting around and decided to retire.  I was given several awards for all my achievements and a gala dinner, attended by many important people, was held in my honor.  I was given a full government pension and brought to this farm to enjoy the rest of my life.” After hearing all this, the man was astounded.  He quickly went back to the farmer and said, “I want that dog!  I will buy it at any price.  How much do you want for that dog?” “Ten dollars,” was the farmer’s reply. “Ten dollars?” the man said in disbelief.  “That dog is amazing, why on earth would you sell it for so little?” “Because he’s a big liar; he didn’t do any of those things!

As soon as Mr. Clinton became the president, Mrs. Clinton and her staff sought to repair the Clinton brand among groups they thought had been damaged during the campaign, scheduling galas, balls, and dinners. They hosted open house tours day and night, especially around Christmas and for the military. What she and her staffers failed to realize was that the White House had a budget like any other government entity. Each shindig still had to be paid either from the Executive Residence budget or the Democratic Party’s purse. Event planners dropped the ball on costs. One Rose Garden event required big, rented, air-conditioned tents that ruined the lawn. Landscaping crews and the National Park Service tore up all the dead grass, installed new sod, and sent them the bill. That’s expensive. But you can’t just have a whole White House lawn muddy and looking like crap. “Just get it done,” staffers would say. Party rental companies refused future events until they were paid. The discussions were plain embarrassing, but when I heard them I wasn’t eavesdropping. They were shouted in the hallway. The Clintons believed that a magic royal pot of money somehow existed for their every whim.

the kitchen and petting them for at least a short time every day. They were both filling out and looking much better. Ariana thought a lot about the Boots & Bangles Gala. Not only about the gala, but about what it meant to be involved with Trey Kelly. It would be hard to impossible to be with Trey and not be involved in public functions. The Kellys were the heart of Whiskey River. Both the ranch and Kelly Boots employed a large portion of the town residents, as well as some from nearby towns. They were involved in all sorts of philanthropic endeavors, often through their foundation. Coming up in just a couple of weeks was the charity gala. After that came Founder’s Day. With Booze Kelly being the founder of Whiskey River,

Christmas and the New Year were celebrated with vastly more acclaim and spontaneity than in most civilized countries, and there were many other gala days which no voyageur ever passed up without the celebration prescribed in the pays d’en haut. Harmon’s first Christmas in the interior came as somewhat of a shock to him, accustomed to the proprieties of the New England mode of celebration, for he says, “This day being Christmas, our people have spent it as usual in drinking and fighting.”11 Kennicott, however, was alive to the picturesqueness of this class of men and more in sympathy with their methods of self-expression. Consequently his remarks on a Christmas celebration in the Northwest are more detailed and full of interest. “The day after Christmas, Flett gave a Christmas ball…. The dancing was, I may say without vulgarity, decidedly ‘stunning.’ I should hardly call it graceful. The figures, if they may be called such, were only Scotch reels of four, and jigs; and … the main point to which the dancers’ efforts seemed to tend, was to get the largest amount of exercise out of every muscle in the frame…. The music consisted of a very bad performance of one vile, unvarying tune, upon a worse old fiddle, accompanied by a brilliant accompaniment upon a large tin pan.

In her present mind, the old days glimmered like the sparkle across enchanted seas: weekends in the English countryside; hot, pulsing Miami nights; New York galas. She could not help but indulge the memories. Nothing made her feel more alive than to swindle someone, to persuade them, to manipulate them, to control them.

Later in the day, Holly frowned at her reflection in the mirror. “This can’t be right!” Holly muttered to herself. She looked like a cross between a panda bear and a raccoon. She had tried to apply a more advanced version of makeup than she was used to, and it was not going well. “Smokey eye, my foot! I look like I have two black eyes.” She had not done the proper shading with her eye shadow, and now her large green eyes were encased with a deep black color that spanned her entire eyelid. “Maybe I should try a different one,” Holly mused aloud. She sat in William’s bedroom at his dresser. She already had on her pretty crushed velvet black dress and a small heart-shaped diamond pendant. It had been William’s birthday gift to her last year. “Let me re-read this article again to see if I can make sense of these instructions.” Holly read her magazine article out loud. “Which Greek Goddess are you? Athena, Venus, or Aphrodite? Check out our makeup tips below to turn heads at your next event!” “Hmmmm, that sounds soooooo good, if only I was better at applying makeup.” She had decided to try their Aphrodite look and had been trying to apply the eyeliner to give her a smoky eye effect. Holly had to wash her face four times already and start over because each time was worse than the last. “Concentrate, Holly, or you’ll be late for the gala. This is your last chance; it’s do or die time!” she warned her reflection in the mirror. “So, it says to put the light grey eyeshadow on the inner one-third of my eyelids. Hmmm, maybe that’s the problem. I don’t know where the inner third is.” She got an idea and went to William’s desk. Looking around, she found a ruler. “Ah-ha! Eureka, I got it!” She went back to her position at his dresser and closed her eyes for a quick, small prayer, then held the ruler up to measure her eye. “Ah-ha! Twenty-one millimeters. So, that means the inner one-third of my eye must be from my nose out seven millimeters . . . right about HERE!” Holly expertly applied the light grey eye shadow to the inner third of her eyelids. “What a big improvement already! Wow! I’m not a panda bear anymore! Ok, one-third down, two-thirds to go . . . I can do this!” Reading further, she said, “Ok, now apply the dark grey eye shadow to the next third of your eye, finishing with the dark brown eye shadow on the outer third of your eyelid.” Holly expertly followed the instructions and sat back in her chair, stunned. She looked beautiful! She had achieved the desired effect, and now her green eyes were enhanced to perfection. “Wow, wow, wow!” Holly felt encouraged to keep going. She read the next instructions. “‘Now, apply blush to your face with an emphasis on contouring your cheekbones.’” “‘Contouring my cheekbones? Who do they think I am, Rembrandt?” Holly said with a groan. Holly gingerly picked up her blush container as if it were about to bite her. She decided another quick prayer wouldn’t go amiss. With a deep breath she muttered, “Ok, I’m going in!” She glanced nervously at the picture in the magazine and tried her hardest to follow it along her cheekbones. “That turned out pretty good!” Holly turned her face this way and that, examining it. It may not have been exactly as in the picture, but the blush now accentuated her beautiful high cheekbones. “Whew! Only the lip left, thank goodness! You got this, Holly!” She encouraged her reflection in the mirror.

Seven years ago tonight, every dream I ever had came true. That's not something too many men get to claim. I'm very lucky, blessed, whichever you believe. Probably a lot of both. Tonight marks the anniversary of my debut performance at Ceasars Palace." On his cue, the crowd whipped into congratulary rapture. Blindsided by his recollection, Isavel was motionless. That's what he recalls happening on this date? "Indulgent, lazy, self-centered... jerk!" she said, grabbing her purse, thinking she'd climb over the seat. "I'm going home!" Before she could turn, hositing herself over, a spotlight landed on her. In the darkened arena Aidan and Isabel were face-to-face. He stared. The same way he did years ago in his pickup truck, holding tight to her wrist, the same way he did on the dance floor at the gala. The same way he did in the moment she left him. "If you can believe it," he said, still staring, "something even more important happened that day. As dreams of fame and fortune go, this topped everything. I've always know that." Then, in a softer voice: "And I'm a fool because I should have never given up." Even from her vantage point, Isabel could see the gulp roll through his throat. "It's my great privilege this evening to introduce my wife, Isabel Royce." He gestered to the box. Isabel responded by sinking to her seat. "What's he talking about?" she hissed to Mary Louise. "We're divorced!" From her right, Tanya nudged her. It was like being on a palace balcony, Isabel offering a deer-in-the-headlights wave to the subjects, a thoroughly baffled look at Aidan. In return, he smiled at her clear confusion. "My wife ..." Why is he calling me that? There was a mixed reaction, lots of gasps, some applause, and the disappointed groans from female fans. "She's done me the tremendous honor of making a rare appearance at one of my shows. Seven years ago, she agreed to marry me. At the time, my life was more trouble than promise. We were two scared kids who had nothing but each other. Really, it was all I needed. We were married in true Vegas fashion." Hoots and hollers echoed, his glance dropping to the stage floor. Sharing this was making the performer uncomfortable. He pushed on. "While most women would have been satisfied with a ring ... " His long fingers fluttered over the snake. "This was Isabel's idea of a permanent bond." It drew a wave of subtle laughter, Isabel included. "Do you remember how the story went?" he said, speaking only to Isabel in a crowd of thousands. "As long as I had it, I'd never be without you. Turns out, it wasn't a story, it was the absolute truth. Lately though," he said, turning back to his public narrative, "circumstance, some serious, some calculated, has prevented me from getting my wife's attention. So tonight I resorted to an old performer's trick, a captive audience. I planned this moment, Isabel, knowing you'd be here. Regardless of anything you may believe, I meant what I said on our wedding night, in the moment I said it. I love you. I always have.

Rich people were just like me except they had a lot more money, wore fancier clothes, couldn't get good staff, and shouldn't have bought little Amanda that third horse because she could only stable two horses at her private school. Imagine. Where was all that tuition money going? Rich people also had a place in the Hamptons, a place in Italy, a place in Florida, and thank God "Jim" finally got a private jet. First class is so congested. Shudder. Like me, they found there were simply just enough hours in the day. Unlike me, it was because their days were spent with personal trainers, stylists, therapists, and Reiki practitioners, and their nights were spent at galas, balls, banquets, charity events, operas, symphonies, and fundraisers. Then there was the shopping. Honestly. Jim/Richard/David/John just couldn't understand that it was impossible to wear the same dress twice. Everyone was run ragged. Exhausted. What about me time? Who wanted to fly up to New York to spend a day at the spa? Jim's treat. Me! Me!

Well, guess what? As long as you think that way, you are not in control of your life. You are at the mercy of those around you, and that is rubbish. It’s not true at all. In every situation, you choose how you react. You can choose to have your day ruined, or you can choose to laugh it off and pay attention to something that is actually important!

Sometimes when he blurted, he said the most offensive thing possible and then spent the rest of the day trying to explain how inoffensively he’d meant it, usually resulting in offending the person even more.

Besides, he’d have a new love in his life soon: Hawthorne Industries. Making money was his first love. Any woman he settled down with would always be his mistress. Women like Camryn were okay with that because it was what they saw growing up. She’d doll up and accompany him to galas and be perfectly content spending her day at the spa and the mall on his dime.

I'd love to cook," she says, "but who has the time? I can't afford to spend two days baking a cake." The implication, of course, is that only unimportant people have that kind of time. Unimportant people like me. I wait for Adam to jump in and save me, but instead he shoves a forkful of lamb into his mouth and feigns deep interest in the contents of his dinner plate. For someone with Adam's political ambitions and penchant for friendly debate, I'm always amazed at the lengths he goes to avoid confrontation with his parents. "I have a full-time job," I say, offering Sandy a labored smile, "and somehow I manage." Sandy delicately places her fork on the table and interlaces her fingers. "I beg your pardon?" My cheeks flush, and all the champagne and wine rush to my head at once. "All I'm saying is... we make time for the things we actually want to do. That's all." Sandy purses her lips and sweeps her hair away from her face with the back of her hand. "Hannah, dear, I am very busy. I am on the board of three charities and am hosting two galas this year. It's not a matter of wanting to cook. I simply have more important things to do." For a woman so different from my own mother- the frosted, well-groomed socialite to my mother's mousy, rumpled academic- she and my mother share a remarkably similar view of the role of cooking in a modern woman's life. For them, cooking is an irrelevant hobby, an amusement for women who lack the brains for more high-powered pursuits or the money to pay someone to perform such a humdrum chore. Sandy Prescott and my mother would agree on very little, but as women who have been liberated from the perfunctory task of cooking a nightly dinner, they would see eye to eye on my intense interest in the culinary arts. Were I a stronger person, someone more in control of her faculties who has not drunk multiple glasses of champagne, I would probably let Sandy's remark go without commenting any further. But I cannot be that person. At least not tonight. Not when Sandy is suggesting, as it seems everyone does, that cooking isn't a priority worthy of a serious person's time. "You would make the time if you wanted to," I say. "But obviously you don't.

For these galas, the Mohaves came together wearing bark masks and face paint or mud-slathered hair, marched upriver to the feasting area, built a fire, and danced until midnight. The next day they ate. The women arrived carrying soup, cakes, or boiled vegetables in dishes and baskets on their heads. Their cakes were made of ground wheat and boiled pumpkin rolled into a dough that was placed in the sand, covered with a leaf, and baked.

Call Girls in Sector 137 Noida

Call Girls in Sector 137 Noida 8882418813(Call) Full Enjoy Genuine staff Call and Whatsapp +91-8882418813 Noida Sector 137 Escorts - The Pink City of India Noida Sector 137 escort is among the most exciting and charming areas of the city of India when it comes to real estate. With a number of options like shopping, dining, and entertainment, has something for every visitor. Noida Sector 137 Escorts itself an amalgam of European and Asian styles with each section having its own kind of cuisines and people is also a happening place in terms of business; thereby attracting people from across the country and globe. One can have a gala time in Noida Sector 137 escort service providing a perfect platform to make all their plans come true. Escort Noida Sector 137 is one among the hottest places of tourist when they want to enjoy their most precious time to the fullest yet what makes this place so amazing is. Itself as the ‘Moscow of the East due to its rich cultural heritage and modern lifestyle from shopping, dining, entertainment to all out there activities; Escort in Noida Sector 137 promises to fill your vacation with a memorable experience. Noida Sector 137 escort service is the perfect professionals who will take care of your needs on your most important days-no matter whether it is a birthday party, wedding, anniversary, party for kids or a simple outing with friends. The exotic and High profile escorts in Noida Sector 137 with their flawless personality will definitely make you feel at ease and relax while you spend quality time with your loved one. Calls itself as the 'crown jewel' of the north Indian cities; hence the demand of and their services are rising every single day Vip escorts in Noida Sector 137 are professionally trained and very much able to attract any man and help them in their most important day. They offer their services with an utmost charm and with utmost patience and sense of understanding. Noida Sector 137 escort are well versed in talking to people and understanding their needs; they can also know and arrange a safe and romantic place where you can spend some time without any disturbs. Noida Sector 137 Call Girls Quality Time With Love Call girls Noida Sector 137 culture with its western touch makes it the perfect place for your exclusive events like your marriage, engagement, birthdays, anniversary, company meetings, concerts and fairs, etc. Noida Sector 137 Call Girls services include various kinds of services like flower picking, pet sitting, secretarial service, shopping, dining, driving, party planning and many more that can add value to your celebration. Noida Sector 137 escort agency can provide you with a number of options; they have specialized in selecting their clients according to their budget, type of event and so on. With a single phone call they can arrange a meeting between you and your spouse, friend, relative, employee, etc. So, if you need a little relaxation then surely Noida Sector 137 escort service is the right choice for you.

German Girls’ League. Two thousand of them walked several hundred miles on a gruelling ‘Adolf Hitler March’ to reach the city. The rallies saw endless parades, displays of mass callisthenics, continuous music and singing, gala performances of Wagner, solemn ceremonies to honour the party’s ‘martyrs’ killed in the failed 1923 Munich putsch, and military exercises. Their dramatic highpoint came on the evening of the ‘Day of the Political Leaders’. As darkness fell and 100,000 spectators took their seats, 110,000 men marched on to the review field and the space was suddenly lit by a ring of lights illuminating thousands of fluttering party banners. Then, at the instant Hitler entered the arena, one hundred and fifty searchlights shot their beams vertically

T♠ 971588953045 VIP Abu Dhabi Escorts in UAE By UAE Escorts In Abu Dhabi Escorts in Abu Dhabi: The Ultimate Guide to Finding Luxury Companions Abu Dhabi, the luxurious capital of the United Arab Emirates (UAE), is known for its opulence, skyscrapers, stunning beaches, and vibrant nightlife. Whether you’re visiting for business, pleasure, or a special occasion, Abu Dhabi offers a myriad of experiences to explore. One of the most sought-after services in this dynamic city is the companionship of escorts in Abu Dhabi. For those looking to enhance their time in the city, Abu Dhabi escorts provide an exceptional experience, blending beauty, sophistication, and professionalism. Whether you're seeking someone to accompany you to an event, enjoy a relaxing dinner with, or simply share intimate moments in private, the options available in Abu Dhabi will cater to your every need. Why Choose Escorts in Abu Dhabi? Abu Dhabi’s escorts stand out for their professionalism, discretion, and elegance. Here are a few reasons why choosing escorts in Abu Dhabi can elevate your experience: Sophistication and Elegance: Abu Dhabi escorts are known for their classy, refined appearance and demeanor. Many are trained in the art of conversation and etiquette, making them ideal companions for upscale events, business meetings, and intimate gatherings. Whether you're attending a gala or a casual dinner, you'll never feel out of place with an escort by your side. Variety of Choices: One of the most appealing aspects of Abu Dhabi escorts is the variety they offer. No matter your preferences, you can find an escort who meets your desires. From young and energetic models to mature, experienced companions, you can easily select someone who fits your personal taste. Whether you prefer a particular ethnicity, body type, or personality, the options in Abu Dhabi are diverse. Discreet and Confidential: Discretion is paramount when hiring an escort, and Abu Dhabi escorts understand this. Most reputable agencies prioritize confidentiality, ensuring that your experience remains completely private. Whether you’re a tourist visiting for a short stay or a local resident, you can trust that your arrangements will be handled with care and respect. Personalized Experience: Escorts in Abu Dhabi understand that each client has different needs and desires. Whether you’re seeking a one-time companion or someone to join you for multiple days, they aim to tailor their services to your requirements. From engaging conversation to fulfilling intimate desires, you can expect a customized and luxurious experience.

T♠ 971588046679 VIP Pakistani Escorts In Abu Dhabi by Abu Dhabi Pakistani Escorts Escorts in Abu Dhabi: The Ultimate Guide to Finding Luxury Companions Abu Dhabi, the luxurious capital of the United Arab Emirates (UAE), is known for its opulence, skyscrapers, stunning beaches, and vibrant nightlife. Whether you’re visiting for business, pleasure, or a special occasion, Abu Dhabi offers a myriad of experiences to explore. One of the most sought-after services in this dynamic city is the companionship of escorts in Abu Dhabi. For those looking to enhance their time in the city, Abu Dhabi escorts provide an exceptional experience, blending beauty, sophistication, and professionalism. Whether you're seeking someone to accompany you to an event, enjoy a relaxing dinner with, or simply share intimate moments in private, the options available in Abu Dhabi will cater to your every need. Why Choose Escorts in Abu Dhabi? Abu Dhabi’s escorts stand out for their professionalism, discretion, and elegance. Here are a few reasons why choosing escorts in Abu Dhabi can elevate your experience: Sophistication and Elegance: Abu Dhabi escorts are known for their classy, refined appearance and demeanor. Many are trained in the art of conversation and etiquette, making them ideal companions for upscale events, business meetings, and intimate gatherings. Whether you're attending a gala or a casual dinner, you'll never feel out of place with an escort by your side. Variety of Choices: One of the most appealing aspects of Abu Dhabi escorts is the variety they offer. No matter your preferences, you can find an escort who meets your desires. From young and energetic models to mature, experienced companions, you can easily select someone who fits your personal taste. Whether you prefer a particular ethnicity, body type, or personality, the options in Abu Dhabi are diverse. Discreet and Confidential: Discretion is paramount when hiring an escort, and Abu Dhabi escorts understand this. Most reputable agencies prioritize confidentiality, ensuring that your experience remains completely private. Whether you’re a tourist visiting for a short stay or a local resident, you can trust that your arrangements will be handled with care and respect. Personalized Experience: Escorts in Abu Dhabi understand that each client has different needs and desires. Whether you’re seeking a one-time companion or someone to join you for multiple days, they aim to tailor their services to your requirements. From engaging conversation to fulfilling intimate desires, you can expect a customized and luxurious experience.

T♠ 00971556872006 Desi Indian Escorts in Abu Dhabi by Abu Dhabi Indian Escorts Escorts in Abu Dhabi: The Ultimate Guide to Finding Luxury Companions Abu Dhabi, the luxurious capital of the United Arab Emirates (UAE), is known for its opulence, skyscrapers, stunning beaches, and vibrant nightlife. Whether you’re visiting for business, pleasure, or a special occasion, Abu Dhabi offers a myriad of experiences to explore. One of the most sought-after services in this dynamic city is the companionship of escorts in Abu Dhabi. For those looking to enhance their time in the city, Abu Dhabi escorts provide an exceptional experience, blending beauty, sophistication, and professionalism. Whether you're seeking someone to accompany you to an event, enjoy a relaxing dinner with, or simply share intimate moments in private, the options available in Abu Dhabi will cater to your every need. Why Choose Escorts in Abu Dhabi? Abu Dhabi’s escorts stand out for their professionalism, discretion, and elegance. Here are a few reasons why choosing escorts in Abu Dhabi can elevate your experience: Sophistication and Elegance: Abu Dhabi escorts are known for their classy, refined appearance and demeanor. Many are trained in the art of conversation and etiquette, making them ideal companions for upscale events, business meetings, and intimate gatherings. Whether you're attending a gala or a casual dinner, you'll never feel out of place with an escort by your side. Variety of Choices: One of the most appealing aspects of Abu Dhabi escorts is the variety they offer. No matter your preferences, you can find an escort who meets your desires. From young and energetic models to mature, experienced companions, you can easily select someone who fits your personal taste. Whether you prefer a particular ethnicity, body type, or personality, the options in Abu Dhabi are diverse. Discreet and Confidential: Discretion is paramount when hiring an escort, and Abu Dhabi escorts understand this. Most reputable agencies prioritize confidentiality, ensuring that your experience remains completely private. Whether you’re a tourist visiting for a short stay or a local resident, you can trust that your arrangements will be handled with care and respect. Personalized Experience: Escorts in Abu Dhabi understand that each client has different needs and desires. Whether you’re seeking a one-time companion or someone to join you for multiple days, they aim to tailor their services to your requirements. From engaging conversation to fulfilling intimate desires, you can expect a customized and luxurious experience.

T♠ 0588312479 Abu Dhabi Escorts in UAE By UAE Escorts In Abu Dhabi Escorts in Abu Dhabi: The Ultimate Guide to Finding Luxury Companions Abu Dhabi, the luxurious capital of the United Arab Emirates (UAE), is known for its opulence, skyscrapers, stunning beaches, and vibrant nightlife. Whether you’re visiting for business, pleasure, or a special occasion, Abu Dhabi offers a myriad of experiences to explore. One of the most sought-after services in this dynamic city is the companionship of escorts in Abu Dhabi. For those looking to enhance their time in the city, Abu Dhabi escorts provide an exceptional experience, blending beauty, sophistication, and professionalism. Whether you're seeking someone to accompany you to an event, enjoy a relaxing dinner with, or simply share intimate moments in private, the options available in Abu Dhabi will cater to your every need. Why Choose Escorts in Abu Dhabi? Abu Dhabi’s escorts stand out for their professionalism, discretion, and elegance. Here are a few reasons why choosing escorts in Abu Dhabi can elevate your experience: Sophistication and Elegance: Abu Dhabi escorts are known for their classy, refined appearance and demeanor. Many are trained in the art of conversation and etiquette, making them ideal companions for upscale events, business meetings, and intimate gatherings. Whether you're attending a gala or a casual dinner, you'll never feel out of place with an escort by your side. Variety of Choices: One of the most appealing aspects of Abu Dhabi escorts is the variety they offer. No matter your preferences, you can find an escort who meets your desires. From young and energetic models to mature, experienced companions, you can easily select someone who fits your personal taste. Whether you prefer a particular ethnicity, body type, or personality, the options in Abu Dhabi are diverse. Discreet and Confidential: Discretion is paramount when hiring an escort, and Abu Dhabi escorts understand this. Most reputable agencies prioritize confidentiality, ensuring that your experience remains completely private. Whether you’re a tourist visiting for a short stay or a local resident, you can trust that your arrangements will be handled with care and respect. Personalized Experience: Escorts in Abu Dhabi understand that each client has different needs and desires. Whether you’re seeking a one-time companion or someone to join you for multiple days, they aim to tailor their services to your requirements. From engaging conversation to fulfilling intimate desires, you can expect a customized and luxurious experience.

T♠ 0529905344 Real Indian Escorts in Abu Dhabi by Abu Dhabi Indian Escorts Escorts in Abu Dhabi: The Ultimate Guide to Finding Luxury Companions Abu Dhabi, the luxurious capital of the United Arab Emirates (UAE), is known for its opulence, skyscrapers, stunning beaches, and vibrant nightlife. Whether you’re visiting for business, pleasure, or a special occasion, Abu Dhabi offers a myriad of experiences to explore. One of the most sought-after services in this dynamic city is the companionship of escorts in Abu Dhabi. For those looking to enhance their time in the city, Abu Dhabi escorts provide an exceptional experience, blending beauty, sophistication, and professionalism. Whether you're seeking someone to accompany you to an event, enjoy a relaxing dinner with, or simply share intimate moments in private, the options available in Abu Dhabi will cater to your every need. Why Choose Escorts in Abu Dhabi? Abu Dhabi’s escorts stand out for their professionalism, discretion, and elegance. Here are a few reasons why choosing escorts in Abu Dhabi can elevate your experience: Sophistication and Elegance: Abu Dhabi escorts are known for their classy, refined appearance and demeanor. Many are trained in the art of conversation and etiquette, making them ideal companions for upscale events, business meetings, and intimate gatherings. Whether you're attending a gala or a casual dinner, you'll never feel out of place with an escort by your side. Variety of Choices: One of the most appealing aspects of Abu Dhabi escorts is the variety they offer. No matter your preferences, you can find an escort who meets your desires. From young and energetic models to mature, experienced companions, you can easily select someone who fits your personal taste. Whether you prefer a particular ethnicity, body type, or personality, the options in Abu Dhabi are diverse. Discreet and Confidential: Discretion is paramount when hiring an escort, and Abu Dhabi escorts understand this. Most reputable agencies prioritize confidentiality, ensuring that your experience remains completely private. Whether you’re a tourist visiting for a short stay or a local resident, you can trust that your arrangements will be handled with care and respect. Personalized Experience: Escorts in Abu Dhabi understand that each client has different needs and desires. Whether you’re seeking a one-time companion or someone to join you for multiple days, they aim to tailor their services to your requirements. From engaging conversation to fulfilling intimate desires, you can expect a customized and luxurious experience.