Where does the time go? I've been consumed with planning KiKi's eighteenth birthday party next week; the hats have been found and beef, pork, and lamb purchased for the meat pies I'll make for KiKi and his friends. Somehow, I was coerced into watching the Victoria's Secret fashion show this week. Maybe I have been a little too secluded, but it seemed so very pointless and boring--more about entertainment that wasn't entertaining than perceived fashion. The choice of the glitzy Fountainbleau as its venue seemed appropriate, though, for the B-list celebrities in attendance.

As predicted, sales are down at Art Basel. With most of America having lost at least 40% of its wealth, there doesn't seem to be the stampede to own everything you see. But, the crowds still came. Miami in December isn't a bad choice, even if you are hesitant about spending.

The real worry about spending, though, is with the state government, and the fuse on that bomb is burning fast. Florida is a state that prides itself on no income tax, funds its way mainly by a sales tax, and that is not a bright spot in a time of reduced spending. Yesterday the family of former Governor, Lawton Chiles, threatened to sue the state if it tried to "borrow" one billion dollars from the Chiles endowment for poor children and elderly. Maybe they have some doubt that it will never by paid back, especially since the state still needs to find another billion just to break even. As Riley says, "Tick, Tock".

And--together with Mr. Astor--, I had a most enjoyable time with that pompous wind bag, Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish, last night. Within minutes of our arrival, she had developed six more arms and was pawing at my husband, loudly proclaiming her love of our friendship, and cackling at her own jokes like some sort of pterodactyl magpie. Truly, I counted six "last drinks" before she trotted off into the night. She sported another one of those high flips in her hair despite my warnings that--like Baroness Seitzinger's bold jewelry--it attracted unnecessary attention from the less affluent. "Don't worry," she bellowed, "I throw drumsticks out the carriage window to distract the villagers following me with pitchforks and torches." We could only gently sigh and roll our eyes; as if she could part with a drumstick.