A weekend without guests is a blessing in Winter, here; it is nice to see your friends, but they are here to party and it is rather difficult to convince them that a nice day at home by the pool is a good enough trip. Mr. Astor had to attend to business, but Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish and myself entertained ourselves by watching the Bewitched marathon, and Terry and Bob went to the beach all day. By the time Mr. Astor arrived home last night, shades of the past had risen. Bob and Terry got drunk at Gay Beach all day and ended up bringing a dozen or so fellow beach-goers home to a pool party. It was only polite to visit and enjoy the party, although--to Bob's credit--it ended by eleven PM, a record of some type down here.
This time last week there was considerable concern that I might be paralyzed by the fall, but I guess it is not time for me to descend from the stage yet. Today, I will escort, as planned, Henrietta to her 69th birthday party. Two old broads you can't keep down.