Sitting in my study, delaying the trip to the barn/gym because it is exactly zero degrees up here in the snow covered hills. So I lollygag and do email. I loiter over lovely note from man who is arranging to have me come and speak in Bali and Jakarta next June. THAT’S more like it, by heaven. The drum-beating life has its comforts.  The idea of being hired to go to Bali… not all bad.

Next week, go to Phoenix for a talk… horrified to see that I have agreed to put on undies, demonstrate exercises. What was I thinking? Even worse, have  greedily contracted to take Red Eye from Phoenix that same night to Orlando, to give two more talks the next day.  I am too old for this nonsense. No undies, though. That’s a relief.  Probably a bit warmer too.

About the Red Eye, Harry regularly counsels me – when I sign up for stuff like this – to remember a golden rule for people over 60: “Do stuff, but remember your age… And DBA!!! (don’t be an a#@ h@##!”)

I keep forgetting.

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