I've been eclipsed. I am officially "second fiddle", now; Leopoldo has taken over the stage.

I guess it sunk in yesterday; I was strolling down Lincoln Road--parasol in hand--and just about everyone said, "Hello, Mrs. Astor. Where is Mr. Astor?". I arrived at afternoon tea at Twist and the first question was, "Where is your husband?" I walked by the 11th Street Diner and Mark, the bartender, ran out on the steps to ask, "Where is Leo?" Deliveries now arrive marked, "For the wife of Leopoldo".

I suppose this is not a bad thing. There are much worse things in this world. I have Miss Vickie constantly asking for more photos of him; I have a collection of rather racy pictures, but I'm afraid I'd have friends like her scaling the gates if I presented them. Photos like that would not appease this rabid crowd. I've approached Murray The Leash Maker in a futile attempt to keep Leo in check, but Murray turned on me as soon as he measured Leo's neck.

I have created a monster, but I suppose that is not necessarily a bad thing.