Bobservations

We usually have a nice quiet Christmas, just the two of us at home, with a nice dinner and some solitude, but this past weekend our friends, the Round-The-Way Gays, Neal and David, called to see if we wanted to have drinks with them on Christmas evening. I was in the shower when Neal called so Carlos told him he’s ask me and then text back the answer. I thought it’d be nice, so I changed plans to have our dinner earlier in the day and then do cock-a-tales with The Boys around 5 and told Carlos to text back.

Christmas evening at 5PM we were knocking on their door, but we saw no lights on; Neal came to the door dressed in what I would consider pajamas—because it’s what I would wear around the house on a stay-at-home day—and I said:

“It’s not today, is it?”

“Well, it was but Carlos never texted back so I thought y’all maybe wanted to stay in.”

Carlos swore he texted; Neal swore he never got one: I checked my group text and there was nothing. All eyes turned to Carlos.

“I.Sent.A.Text.”

After much debate I looked through his phone and he had written a text but  it had not been delivered. So, we’re looking into the New Year, and this time I’m the one texting back.

Poor Carlos, we almost had him fully gaslighted.

I think Tuxedo needs to put his investigate journalist hat on and get to the bottom of this story. He’s onto something …

Rapist Bill Cosby is said to be planning a new comedy tour in 2023 and my questions are: is it a For Ladies Only show and is there a two-drink minimum.

#LargeMarge is under fire after accusing House Speaker Nancy Pelosi of being “complicit” in the January 6 insurrection.

Yes, according to a serial adulterer and liar, Nancy Pelosi, who was being hunted by the mob, had some hand in the attack.

Funny, though, #LargeMarge asked for a pardon in the days following 1/6.

Sometimes at work I can be very quiet, putting my head down and just working away silently, and it tends to freak people out.

“Why is he so quiet?”

“Is everything okay?”

“Ask him.”

“You ask him.”

Finally a coworker  comes up to me and says, quietly:

“You’re so quiet.”

I don’t bother to look up and I say:

“Y’all should try it.”

And then they do.

Lying Long Island Representative-elect George Santos came clean this week admitting he lied about being Jewish; he lied about his grandparents escaping the Holocaust, he lied about his education, he lied about having a college degree, he lied about places he worked, he lied about being married to a woman, and swore he was married to a man though no proof of that wedding exists either.

Democrats are calling for him to resign but the GOP is mostly standing with him because when you are a party of liars one more is no big deal.

Pope Francis has announced his predecessor Benedict XVI is “very sick” and his health had “worsened” and asked people “for a special prayer for Pope Emeritus Benedict.” 

Hard pass.

Of note: we are off for a quick weekend getaway to one of our favorite places on the planet and, other than a pre-planned post, all will be quiet on the ISBL Front until Monday.

HNY y’all.

Mike Piek was Mister Grand Netherlands in 2018. He isn’t just a hot model with a great head of hair, he also works as a schoolteacher for children with physical and mental problems. Still, that doesn’t matter: Would You Hit It?

Biltmore

Our weekend getaway to Asheville included a trip to the Biltmore Estate. We’ve been several times, though never at Christmas, and the house never fails to amaze. We toured the house, the gardens, the winery … because, of course … and loved every inch of it, so here’s the story of Biltmore along with some of the photos we took….

In the 1880s, at the height of the Gilded Age, George Washington Vanderbilt II began visiting Asheville, North Carolina. He loved the scenery and climate so much that he decided to build a little summer place in what he dubbed his "little mountain escape". His older brothers and sisters had their massive, luxurious summer places in Newport, Rhode Island, and Hyde Park, New York but he wanted the mountains.

And he called his hone Biltmore, derived from "De Bilt", his ancestors' place of origin in the Netherlands, and "More", Anglo-Saxon for open, rolling land. Vanderbilt bought nearly 700 parcels of land, including over 50 farms and at least five cemeteries, and began construction on the house in 1889.

Due to its somewhat remote area, and to make building the home easier and, if possible, quicker, a woodworking factory and brick kiln, which produced 32,000 bricks a day, were built onsite, and a three-mile railroad was built to bring materials to the building site. Construction on the main house required the labor of 1,000 workers and 60 stonemasons. The house is over 175,000 square feet—roughly four acres—with 35 bedrooms, 43 bathrooms, and 65 fireplaces and 43 bathrooms; the entire estate originally covered 125,000 acres but is now a much more modest[?] 8,000 acres.

Vanderbilt went on extensive trips overseas to purchase decor while construction continued. He returned to North Carolina with thousands of furnishings for his newly built home including tapestries, hundreds of carpets, prints, linens, and decorative objects, all dating between the 15th century and the late 19th century.

And finally, on Christmas Eve of 1895, George Vanderbilt opened his home to family and friends from across the country, who were encouraged to enjoy leisure and country pursuits. Notable guests to the estate over the years included author Edith Wharton, novelist Henry James, ambassadors Joseph Hodges Choate and Larz Anderson, and U.S. Presidents. George married Edith Stuyvesant Dresser in 1898 in Paris, France; their only child, Cornelia Stuyvesant Vanderbilt, was born at Biltmore in the Louis XV room in 1900 and grew up at the estate.

Driven by the impact of the newly imposed income taxes, and the fact that the estate was getting harder to manage economically, sold Vanderbilt  87,000 acres to the federal government. After Vanderbilt's unexpected death in 1914 of complications from an emergency appendectomy, his widow completed the sale to carry out her husband's wish that the land remain unaltered, and that property became the nucleus of the Pisgah National Forest.

He didn’t want his "little mountain escape" affected.

However, running such a large estate was overwhelming, so Edith consolidated her interests and sold Biltmore Estate Industries in 1917 and Biltmore Village in 1921. She intermittently occupied the house, living in an apartment carved out of the former Bachelors' Wing, until the marriage of her daughter to John Francis Amherst Cecil in April 1924. The Cecils had two sons who were born in the same room as their mother.

In an attempt to bolster the estate's financial situation during the Great Depression, Cornelia and her husband opened Biltmore to the public in March 1930 at the request of the City of Asheville, which hoped the attraction would revitalize the area. Biltmore closed during World War II; in 1942, 62 paintings and 17 sculptures were moved to the estate by train from the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. to protect them in the event of an attack on the United States.

The Cecils divorced in 1934, and Cornelia left the estate never to return; however, John Cecil maintained his residence in the Bachelors' Wing until his death in 1954. Their eldest son, George Henry Vanderbilt Cecil, occupied rooms in the wing until 1956. At that point Biltmore House ceased to be a family residence and continued to be operated as a historic house museum.

Their younger son William A. V. Cecil, Sr. returned to Biltmore in the late 1950s to help his brother manage the estate when it was in financial trouble and make it the profitable and self-sustaining enterprise his grandfather envisioned. William eventually inherited the estate upon the death of his mother 1976, while his brother, George, inherited the then more profitable dairy farm which was split off into Biltmore Farms.

In 1995, while celebrating the 100th anniversary of the estate, William Cecil turned over control of the company to his son, William A. V. Cecil, Jr. After the death of William A. V. Cecil in October 2017 and his wife Mimi Cecil in November, their daughter Dini Pickering began serving as board chair and their son Bill Cecil as CEO. The house, not including the 8,000-acre property and other businesses on the site, is assessed at $157.2 million …unfurnished.

Designated a National Historic Landmark in 1963 Biltmore is a major tourist attraction in Western North Carolina, with over two million visitors each year.

The Patti Weekend

Well, after two three-day weekends in a row, I ought to get back to work, but first: What.A.Fabulous.Weekend.

It was a gorgeous and sunny and pleasant drive to Atlanta. Very little drama. I didn't have to shriek once and try to take the wheel from Carlos, so it was all good. 

After living all those years in Miami, inches away from a major metropolitan area, and now living in Smallville, roughly a century or so from city life, I always get a slight rush when Atlanta appears out of the window. Traffic and horns honking and crazy drivers. Love.It.

And loved the hotel. We've stayed at the Artmore two times now, and it's always such a pleasant stay, Very chic and friendly and fun. An old apartment building turned into a boutique hotel. Plus, it's a short walk to symphony hall for the main event.

Patti.Freakin'.LuPone.

But first, there was some tequila and beer and ceviche, which is always a good thing. We served ceviche at Cinco de Never and a few of the guests gave me the "Is that raw?" look, and it took some convincing to tell them that the salmon, and the shrimp, are 'cooked' in citrus juices. But they all tried it and loved it. This ceviche I had was ahi and shrimp, and as anyone who knows me knows, if there's ahi on a menu, I'm having it. Dee-lish. With some lime and a wee hint of mint, it tasted so good alongside a Reposado Margarita on the rocks with a beer chaser.

Then it was back to the hotel for a little cat nap and shower, and then off to see her.

What an amazing show. Row B, Seats 5 and 6. I swear, if Patti LuPone was a girl who spit, we were sitting close enough so she could spit on me. And that would have been okay. Carlos and I settled in our seats, and then, coming through the aisle to take the seats next to me, was an obviously gay man and his "date"; a woman in her forties, I'm guessing. They began to talk, and I began to eavesdrop. He's a big show queen, comes to see all the Broadway shows and divas as they visit Atlanta. He's a subscriber so he always gets a good seat. He's never been married, and judging by the bad dye job on his head, he's in his 50s or 60s. Note to him: if the hair is black and the eyebrows are grey, it's a dead giveaway. But I digress. They continued to talk, and giggle, and then snuggle. He slipped his hand into hers and with his other hand began caressing her knee.

Portia di Rossi DeGeneres! Is he straight?

Crazy. But he held her hand all through the show, though he did squeal like a schoolgirl when Patti began to sing 'Don't Cry For Me Argentina'.

Carlos, on the other hand, found himself seated next to an older woman in a purple fedora. Lucky! And she was a character. Her name was Harriet and she's a big theater buff, and a little bit daft. In a good way. She introduced herself to us a couple of times, and asked Carlos his name twice, but she was a pistol. At one point, when someone was coming through our aisle, her daughter, seated next to her, said, "Walk your back, Mom" and Harriet looked at me and Carlos and said, "Is someone shooting?" Pistol.

But the real pistol was Patti LuPone. I thought she'd be amazing. She was amazing. I thought she's be funny. She was hysterical. i thought she'd be a diva. She wasn't.

After seeing, or hearing, that tape of Patti going all Diva on the theater-goer who brought a camera into 'Gypsy,' I laughed when, while singing "Just The Way You Look Tonight" Miss LuPone pulled out a camera and began taking pictures of the audience. She worked the stage, asking people to huddle together, and she even snapped a picture of Harriet, Carlos and me. Then she snapped a picture of herself as she hit that last note.

The show was called Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda, and featured songs from musicals that Patti LuPone thought she could have been in, should have been in, was in, and will be in. At one point, she said she'd always wanted to be Marry Martin, or Cathy Rigby, or Sandy Duncan, and play 'Peter Pan,' but Broadway wanted her to be Ethel Merman. Then she sang 'Neverland' beautifully and proved she coulda been in that one. As the song ended, she said, "They didn't ask me to be in that one, they asked me to be in this one..." and stood center stage and raised her arms above her head. As the orchestra played the overture from "Evita,' a little long overture, Patti got a laugh when she turned one hand and glanced at her watch. Then she belted out 'Don't Cry For Me....'. Magic.

It was such a wonderful show. So funny, the tales of her life and her experiences in show business. and that voice. Chills. Big, ballsy. brassy Broadway belter. Such a wonderful night.

The downside? A woman behind us who seemed to think she was sitting in her living room and Patti was performing just for her. She kept talking to Patti like they were old friends. "I remember that, too" "I was there that night!" "We'd vote for you!" I gave the side-eyed-gay-sneer. Did.Not.Faze.Her.

Still. If you ever get the chance.....blibbety blah blay bue......go see La LuPone.

The next day we drove down to Piedmont Park and ate breakfast at the Flying Biscuit, and then headed up to the Atlanta Botanical Gardens. Back in Miami, we used to visit a place called Fairchild Tropical Gardens. Very tropical, of course, and peaceful. This place was just like that, with lovely trails and different gardens and waterfalls, and flowers and statuary and orchids. We wound our way through there for hours, spending a beautiful afternoon.

Such a lovely, peaceful day, after such a Diva-fied night.

Tequila. Patti LuPone. Ceviche. Showtunes, Orchids. Carlos. My kind of weekend.

How was yours?