Well, now. You're probably all properly shocked, or at least I hope you are, after that last little fountain of bile. They deserve it though, so don't be so surprised. Nothing is nastier than a Southerner whose sense of decency has been compromised. If that had been MY Marine's funeral they'd invaded, the shrieking Austrian War Eagles would be unleashed but... there I go again.

I'd really intended to post something nice and pleasant tonight involving shiny objects, which is as you know my favorite topic...more or less. I suppose my favorite topic would be some mutant combination of silver and movie houses and dance music and Vienna....perhaps a large, stylish movie theatre in Vienna that has a Teegarten with pretty silver from Baltimore. Yeah, unlikely, eh?

Ahh, March, and I'm dying for the warm weather. I like to try one day-trip to the ocean in March because there's usually that burst of heat--which hit us midweek this year and did nobody a lick of good.

I am lately very pleased with myself for some new acquisitions. Specifically, I have obtained a sizable new silver service. (Oh, fine, it's plate, but don't get snippy with me when I'm talking about something nice, will you?) This service has been specifically designated as the Beach Service.

I grew up taking vacations at Rehoboth Beach and Virginia Beach, both in their day the preserve of very snooty people from Pennsylvania, Maryland and Virginia. My mother never had any interest in cooking at the beach. She would always have dinner once or twice, during our stay, for a few family friends who happened to be "down the ocean" at the same time, but for the most part figured that vacation applied to housework as well, and so we "dined out" most of the time.

We always knew some people at both resorts who wanted nothing to do with beach restaurants. I was always perfectly happy with the Avenue or the Seawood at Rehoboth, and the wonderful old Neptune at Virginia Beach, and certainly my mother believed that if someone else did the dishes it had to be a good meal. Yet, there were always those lordly types who felt that if one entertained grandly in Baltimore, one must do the same at the beach. They maintained an entire set of silver that was kept in mahogany boxes and used for a few weeks every year--hauled down to water's edge specifically for use at the beach. It wouldn't do, really, to give up fashion just because the family wasn't in town.

I am very happy to have joined the ranks of those who have a beach service. My friend Robert was trying to unload some pieces of a goofy 40's silverplate pattern to which he'd fallen heir, somehow; so I adopted them and added via Ebay. (I've got to stay away from that.)

I now possess service for twelve in "Queen Bess." Sure, it's a not-so-great pattern that nobody on earth really wants anymore (nobody wants those 40s patterns), but damnit, I have a beach service.

Naturally there will be those who attempt to make snide comments about using simple plate instead of sterling silver. Never try to out-snob a born snob. I can simply turn and say "Well, dear, you didn't really think I'd bring all of the sterling down from the city, did you? It's rather nouveau-riche to use sterling at the ocean, don't you think?"

Probably in a couple of years I'll end up finding a box of sterling for twelve in some unfashionable pattern and I'll have to recant. "You wouldn't expect me to use the city service at the beach, would you?"