Carole Radziwill

Carole ponders what lead up to the "white trash" bust-up and discusses the mating habits of Bonobos.

on Sep 4, 2012

And So it Goes. . .
In the end, Heather and I had a few good laughs but did not beg anyone to come to St. Barths. Do we seem like beggars? I’ve never begged anyone to go anywhere. And it’s true -- it was egregious -- I didn’t organize a party, or a red carpet. But it’s because I didn’t have my Oscar dress, it wouldn’t fit on the small plane. Too much crinoline. Plus, I wonder if maybe we all forgot one little thing. This trip was about, um. . .me?

Yet I somehow end up pants-less, refereeing a boxing match between grown women, cursing like a pirate and missing Russ’ rehearsal. I, too, wound up pounding Captain Jack all night, the whiskey, that is.

I’d like to take a moment to remind everyone, again, about the reasons for this trip.

1. I finished the first draft of my book.
2. Russ is playing a blues festival.
3. I invited the girls along to celebrate.