Over the weekend we went to the Professor's 50th high school reunion. I think I actually saw more people I was close to than Prof did, as a couple of my brother's close friends were there, plus a girl from my class. Every time I see her she tells the story of how we were driving down to Austin, with my father asleep in the back seat, and I got stopped by a cop for doing 100 mph. (Actually, I think it was only 95.) What can I say? -- I was 17, maybe 16, and I just got in a zone where I was passing every car in sight. This story used to really embarrass me but Saturday night I realized that that incident was my first experience in talking my way out of a ticket, something I have done pretty well ever since. Not that I speed. Oh no, I wouldn't do that. Trust me.

Now I am in Lousiana. I got a room at my favorite hotel, the one I absolutely could not get into for two years. The last time I was here I could not get on the internet, but I thought I would give it one more try. And everything is working. So I have had my crab au gratin dinner, served with the best cole slaw and the best hush puppies in the world; I have shopped at the outlet mall; I have even squeezed sales calls into my schedule.

About that shopping... I wouldn't say that I have short legs, but I bought the cutest pair of pants with cuffs and they are the perfect length, no hemming required. And do you know how I found these perfect pants? -- They are capris. I wish I were kidding but, sadly, no.