Something in the winds

Today held a bounty of events, and it was a real challenge just to show up to each gathering and maintain the proper dress! This afternoon opened up the Eternal Promethea sim, and the Princess Ana was gracious enough to extend an invitation for tea and dancing. Words cannot express what a stroll through the city can, and I cannot encourage readers enough to take a moment to visit. The blinding white marble of the city structures is softened by the silky ambient light. Flowers sneak into every crevice. Prims line up dutifully under the Princess's talented command. She's prepared a beautiful sim, but has also outlined plans for a content rich community that will include an arcade along the breakwall for street performers and artists. We followed up her Highness's tour, punctuated by a walk up the cliff to take in the view 'into my dream' as she likes to say, with dancing overlooking the water gardens. Mr. Roberto Viking was kind enough to waltz me around the floor and I'm so glad, as it gave him a moment to mention his friend's recent development of an Amnesty International presence in Caledon.
After the tea, I did some quick browsing at M. Zori's in Antiquity to pick up a gown that I've eyed for so many weeks. It was a bit too Steampunky for my tastes at first, but Mr. Hassanov has opened up new horizons to me, and I used the hairpin he presented me at Valentine's Day as an excuse to buy a gown to match.
The company at the ball was a fine one, indeed, with the Loch Avie First Lancer's making up the most colorful sect of the party. And thank goodness they are so festive in their regalia as they have a lot to celebrate: Miss Diamonda Gustafson was promoted to Lieutenant this evening! It was a delightful sight, but as you can see, the authority has not gone to her head, and she remains all manner of a lady-of-quality even in her dress greens.
Mr. Craig entertained the crowd with his newest military creations, but I'm afraid my eyes wandered to Nellie. The Duchess's water horse had little fear of the warcraft taking over her harbor and quickly paddled in to claim back her territory. While the troops discussed their arms, I had a chance to question the Countess Seasong (who is looking radiant in her new marriage trousseau) about the the Relay for Life Caledon Ladies' Auction. I'm proud to announce that your humble bloggeress is now "On the block"!

This atmosphere of engineering marvels attracted an accomplished guest list, and I was lucky enough to cross paths late in the evening with a Mr. Tigerpaw of Lonicrae. Our mutual affection for animal reproduction led to an evening of charming conversation and I must say I was so much enamored by his chatter that Miss Parks had to remind me not let him 'compromise' me. I shan't let myself be compromised, but a swoon is most definately in order.

In which the young miss extols on loves lost and found and in between

Miss W. sincerely wishes to better understand the nature of love in Caledon. It would seem that like in any life, love plays a starring role in the lives of our citizens. A dear friend in the colonies has just shared the details of her own affair which has, most unfortunately, come to an end, in spite of the lovers' most compatible dispositions. It was their habits that lead to the demise of the union, because although their lifestyles made for a harmonious match, these lifestyles were maintained on opposite hemispheres of the Aether, and no mistress is as cruel as time.
It was after the relating of this story that Miss W. was asked to reflect on her own experiences with romance in Caledon, of which there have been none. That is not to say that there hasn't been a delightful round of interesting gentlemen with which to share one's time, but that there has not been any serious inquiry into courtship. But once this reflection begins, it is impossible to quelch, and Miss W. has found herself analyzing the key relationships she's formed in her short time as a citizen. She found herself donning particularly more Steampunk elements in her dress when preparing for the Edison Ball, hosted by the Duchess Loch Avie, but once it was remembered that a certain Mr. H. might not be present, she forgot why she bothered to wear them at all.
Romance is a fickle friend, unreliable, but a delight when happened upon; but in the long run, a wise woman much prefers the company of the true friend, of which, in Caledon, there many.

Dispatches from the center of the Earth

The recent expedition undertaken by Professor Sadovyncha has turned out to be a smashing success, as did, ironically, the premature memorial service hosted by Miss Kaye Robbiani of Fairy and Miss Elegia Underwood of Eyre. We the explorers are very grateful for the outpouring of support, and very sorry about any bets hedged against our safe return, particularly those of Mr. Jomander Trefoil, who is now thought to be running from his debtors after securing 80/20 odds for our demise. Tips as to his whereabouts may be directed to the Guvnah's office.

Short, strange trip

My arrival in Caledon is not a very distant memory, but feels very much so considering how much my life has changed since crossing the threshold. I often think it a sweet coincidence that my first moments in Caledon were spent raving at the opening of the Carnivale season at the HG Wells Twelfth Night Celebration, and by the of the that whirlwind season I had made a home in the plot next door. At the bottom of this correspondence are just a few of the tin-types I've prepared in the meantime that illustrate the many friendships I've found and adventures that have only just begun.

Today is the first day of the rest of your empire

I've done it again!
Caledonians are, by nature, not an excitable bunch. Our corset strings are tied too tight for that sort of business, but there is one four-letter word that will get out britches steamed: land. Mr. Thadicus Caligari has been kind enough to wait out the weekend for me so that I could purchase his hot, little plot in Regency. It's an adorable little thing, snuggled up against the the Neo-Meiji Restoration sector of Regency, so I smell the cherry blossoms floating in from Miss Chevalier's cherry tree and hear the tinkling of my neighbors' Zen ponds.
This does not come without complications, however. Because the L word is such a rarity, such an exquisite delicacy in Caledon, it may insight us to make hasty decisions with little or no forethought. I had often daydreamed of grand, open gardens and museums for my peers, but there was certainly no plan yet in motion when I bum-rushed Mr. Caligari, only a vague wish to create a public space for the betterment of Her Grace, Caledon. But now that the void of ideas has passed, an overabundace of ideas has replaced it. Decisions, decisions, such a delightful burden to bear.