Honored

Marthe Bibesco, in a 1911 painting by Giovanni Boldini

I was most graciously bestowed two considerable honors by the luminous Little Augury, the Prolific Blogger Award and the Beautiful Blogger Award, which have provided me with unending delight. I toil regularly in a position which rarely gives as much as it gets and I’m constantly bowled over by the rewarding nature of the blogging community. It is not simply the occasional esteem granted, such as these, but more so the nourishment you all furnish when I’m most in need.

That said, I must carry on and extend these honors to the coterie of confidantes I find myself turning to with regularity. I encourage you to drop by for a visit.

A Bloomsbury Life - My imaginary older sister.

Being Manly - Someone with whom I would share far too many Gin + Tonics.

Bow Tie Guy - The best Manhattan maker this side of the Mason-Dixon. Get better, ol’ chap!

Hollister Hovey - The girl has style.

Little Augury - Consistently educating me as only she can.

pve design - Talent, beauty and wit. Deadly combination.

The Neo Traditionalist - Nobody else shines down and clears away the grey clouds as she does.

With recognition comes responsibility. Those listed above must choose 7 bloggers to whom they turn for a healthy dose of style and substance. Then they must reveal 7 treasures about themselves they have yet to share. Here are mine:

I’m proficient at various musical instruments including the oboe, the mellophone, the trumpet and the piano yet never learned to play the one instrument I desired, the drums.

I’ve driven a car at 140 mph on the Autobahn. Driving fast is what I do to relieve stress instead of yoga or meditation.

My uncle is an Elvis impersonator.

I’m related by marriage to Myron Floren, the “happy Norwegian” and accordionist on the Lawrence Welk Show.

I have nearly broken my neck in three separate accidents: backyard gymnastics, cheerleading & riding.

My ancestors once owned an estate in Southern Italy with land as far as the eye could see, until one louche kinsman gambled the majority away in Monte Carlo. Only the house still remains in the family.

I had the pleasure of liberating Alfred Hitchcock’s daughter, Patricia O’Connell, from the company of two stale nuns and subsequently amused her over cocktails at a Christmas Party.