In the spirit of altruism and selflessness, I will push aside concerns for my own battle with the wasting disease known as the Flu of the Damned, and (although I am still accepting floral tributes) turn the focus where it belongs, which is, on

THE KEELHAULER, YAY!

(see illustration)

ILLUSTRATION

Awwww, see how cute he is?

Today's his birthday, and he's coming home from the sea, and I'm chugging Thera-Flu and wondering... it's 11:00 AM, is that too early for a First Kiss of Summer, strictly for medicinal purposes?

In my imagination, I will mix up a thermos of First Kiss of Summer(s) and some sort of elegant yet simple lunch--cold chicken, perhaps a few capers--and meet him at the dock, carrying a picnic basket and wearing a flattering dress of coral linen, possibly some kind of straw picture hat with a peony in its wide black ribbon band. The main problem with my imagined scenario is the wide departure it represents from my immediate situation, which includes an unbrushed rat's nest of hair, a pair of pants missing a button, and a mug of disgusting cinnamon-apple Thera-Flu. Those elements just do not fit into a successful return-from-the-sea/birthday celebration. Diana Vreeland, I will never be.

And yet, Diana Vreeland will never be me, Violet, relishing the surreptitious beauty that is calling in sick to work with the Flu of the Damned, listening to the Raconteurs, and contemplating vodka before noon.

So, owing to a sore throat and last year's lukewarm reception, I'm going to forego my usual birthday song and ask you to join with me in the traditional:

Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday, dear Keelhauler,
Happy birthday [big finish!] to YOUuUuuuuuuuuu!

Star of the day. . .The Keelhauler, yay, everybody say yay!