Where's the pimento cheese?

Post DMV truama, Randa's Fans and I took a tour of historic Georgetown homes; we mostly did it so we could covet and/or ridicule of the decor of the wealthy. Note: money and taste are not necessarily intimates.

We also did it for the afternoon tea served by the ladies of St. John's Episcopal Church, an event that reminded me of how Southern a city DC actually is. A thousand strands of pearls, several pounds of lipstick, a small mountain of Xanax, four gallons of peroxide, and the entire Vera Bradley spring collection sure can make a big old platter of crustless chicken salad sandwiches.

The day was gorgeous, and DC was in full bloom with some of my favorite Southern flora.

Wisteria:

And pink dogwood:

Now, Saturday was hot, nigh on ninety, but I was nonetheless offended by this:

Seven, count 'em, SEVEN air conditioners atop one of the larger historic homes. Is this sort of conspicuous consumption still done? I mean, it just seems like an inordinate amount of hubris - The Vanderbilts WILL be comfortable! - something punishable by the gods. Maybe this is actually a very green move or maybe their palace is full of neato micro-climates (Delancey wants her bedroom to be like St. Barts; Chauncey wants his bedroom to be like Vail), but I have a hard time believing that these folks are doing the environment a solid.

In other news, I learned a new word yesterday: flossy. As in fancy or snazzy. "I'm all ginned up to visit that flossy new bar on Madison and Charles." Feel free to add it to your repertoire.