yes, today was catering the third in a series. folks pay two to three thousand dollars a pop for a day dressing like british gamekeepers: there is much plaid, tattersall and otherwise, earth tones but mind you RICH earth tones; aloofness; baldness to bullet-tip on old men who went to uva, no doubt: they are bred with something of the horse, selected for panoramic sinuses and a thousand-count satin voice. but i, hired help though i was, dropped a petit toast livermousse-side down to the feet of the host.
the hostess, a hose: 'oh, i'm so very glad the senator got to make it today. he does love to tramp around shooting when he can. usually comes once a season, but lately he's been on the television every day!' many good clean folks making fun of the land's fat would have recorded this, 'O i'm SOO glad the senator...on TV...' but do not realize that articulation and careful pauses mark a gentleman or a lady, along with soft r's and never shouting. everyone was out shooting pheasants and after that, we waited for the senator, to descry his palpable humanity;
i've seen another senator dolled up and dragged ornamentally around. this was a few years ago, woodberry, The Game (maybe even The Hundredth Game) when a louisianan chum's parents paraded then the junior, now the senior senator of that state on their arm and/or lapel. was introduced. no big deal, but neither am i. later i was not much longer friends with this fellow who was not very interested, as was the case with most of these fine young citizens, in remaining buddies with a quer.
but today's senator was a gentleman. he didn't have the getup down to the nines- no breeches, no sea-blue or cerise kneesocks of finest combed angora, and it looked like he made a pass at all these things with a permutation of items from his senatorial wardrobe. it came out looking kind of silly; maybe this was the reason everyone else there (rather than simply swimming grinning brazen to him to shake his hand off, and keep a hangnail or a button) took to him with vicarious regret.
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