Went sailing, catamaraning actually, with Ham and Gloria yesterday, along with old-time friend of Gloria's, Toto, on lake Coeur d'Ale`ne. Eat your hearts out. Then Toto took us around the lake in her shiny commodious new car, to drinks (Toto and I had each two Bloody-Marys; Ham had a couple of shots of Irish whisky with soda-back, and Gloria a shot of sweet-sweet peach brandy, and one of Toto's and my Bloody-Marys--not really: She had her own Bloody-Mary) and fantabulous nachos, in an up-scale sort of o'er-the-lake scenic resort brasserie, such as was undreamed-of back in my salad days, when I first went sailing and drinking on Lake Coeur d'Ale`ne, what time the back side of the lake was still piously and inconveniently rustic (no Bloody Marys). I felt obliged to kick in on the drinks, and I did. Awkwardly perhaps, but I did it. And I didn't suffer, as one might have supposed I would, from the ingestion of an inordinate quantity of grain alcohol--nothing worse than a slight headache in the late evening, against which a couple of aspirin that Gloria dispensed to me out of her handbag were adequately prophylactic.