I'll blog about Miss Joy, who came to my party the other night. There must be something in Mississippi water, or a youth pixie, or something that graces certain women in the South. Mr. Oglesby claims one for Miss Reba, and knowing some of the women I do, I am not surprised. And no, Terry, it is not strictly a question of clean living. I don't know if it's luck, or a modicum of suffering, or what, but I can tell you that some southern women seem to look younger as they grow older. I met Miss Joy when she was in her sixties, and there is not a woman of that age that you can name who turned out better than she did back then. Prettily made up, well-coiffed, well-dressed, and with a gracious demeanor that my Texas relatives only approached. She has been coming to my parties for years, and we never saw her looking younger or more lovely than she was the other night. She must be in her early seventies, and she turned up in good humor, with a beautiful complexion and just as prettily turned out as ever. Lyman and I were wondering if she was nearly as pretty when she was young as she was a couple of days ago.