I spent Inauguration Day glued to my television, working only intermittently on the client work piled up on my desk and in my Outlook e-box. That night, I went to a couple of Inauguration Day parties, beginning with one at the stunning home of A & F — one of the smartest, funnest (yes, I know it’s not a real word!), most hospitable couples in all of SRQ. After spending an inappropriate length of time drooling at their amazing art work, which I do whenever they’re kind enough to let me cross their threshhold, I made my way into the party gathering and found an old — and I mean that in both senses, but kindly — friend about whom I’d written previously in a column entitled Sarasota’s Real Rich.

I hobnobbed with some of the coolest, most interesting folks in Sarasota — including my friend, Ingrid, drank a bit too much (yep, still confusing the word inauguration with inebriation … but I’ll get it right one of these days), inadvertently kissed a complete stranger cum new acquaintance on the lips when I was aiming for his cheek (damn those phony French air kisses anyway!), and left the party early, stopping only to lust after the paintings again as I exited this belle maison and tripped along the way to the next party.

The night was massively windy, as you might recall, and en route, I managed to flash a car with a Marilyn Monroe-esque glimpse beneath my skirt when the wind quite naughtily pulled its own version of a subway grate gust. My flimsy satin skirt flew up to my neck right as I was crossing the street, catching me frozen deer-like in the headlights of a newly arriving party guest. Luckily, I was wearing the blackest leggings to save me from total mortification. Moving on.

Next arrived at the WSLR Inauguration Extravaganza — the People’s Potluck Party for Change — held at the Art Center near Van Wezel Hall. I got another fabulous inundation of art (some very good stuff on the walls — have to go back when I’m less UI) and ran into quite a few people I know. One acquaintance said “Geez, you look ten years younger.” After I got over the implied insult that I must have previously looked ten years older, I decided I AM ten years younger!

Again had the good fortune of running into Sarasota Democratic Club President, Nancy Feehan, who was maddeningly chic in a hot, hot, shiny leather trenchcoat. I basically wanted to kill her. This is me, leaning over her Join the Sarasota Democrats table, politely ignoring her chicness.

Chic? Who cares about chic when you're the Reality Chick?!

By the way, if you want to join the Sarasota Dems — you can easily do so HERE!

So, enough of my rambling. I’m stone cold sober and I better be, right? For the work ahead? For my cats, my self, my community, my clients, my friends and family, the strangers at the gate, and for my country.

Sober, single (still!), and spectacularly happy.