Unflappable. In control. Composed to a fault. This is the consummate hostess. She is the picture of poise with nary a hair out of place as she floats on along on a perfumed cloud from one guest to the next, ensuring that no glass is empty, bellies are satiated and all is right with the world. Oy vey! I love to entertain, but it wears me the hell out. And the worst part is, I usually am that duck, not only paddling furiously to keep things afloat just beneath the surface but doing it with a smile on my face—Ms. Cool Calm and Collected—while, at the same time, neglecting my desire to enjoy my own shindig (and often starving in the process). When will I ever learn? As those of my ilk like to think, the party must go on . . .