I do sympathize, but at the same time, I sure wish I could get in on the Lyon gourmet food orgy.

Merry post-Christmas from Lyon, Kevin & everybody! (And that's E-M-M-A-N-U-E-L-L-E; my Dad still can't spell it, so it's more than understandable.)

Poor Emmanuelle. But try this. My French translator Jean-Francois Le Ruyet and his wife Marilyn, a photographer, were booked on AF68 Wednesday, yes the very one, for a week's visit with me and a photo excursion to the snowy Owens to do the covers for some novels of mine. They were pissed around all day at the airport, then the next day their flight via Atlanta filled with smoke and had an emergency return landing. They took a train home and decided to try again in a few months. I sure hope it was a real alarm. The French are treating it as paranoia, but I suppose it's better safe...

Excusez-moi. I must have had the, uh, church on my mind...