Post-Mortem

... and the mortem thing is almost right. About half way across the Atlantic, I realized that I was getting sick. I ended up with one of the worst summer colds I've ever had - nasty sore throat, and a cough that still lingers on two months later. Maybe it's the dreaded Luxembourg Lung Fungus.

The grass in the yard was about a foot tall in many places. I have a teen-age son who is blissfully ignorant about how to use the lawn mower, so I had to deal with it myself. It was way too deep for the mower, so I spent about an hour with my two-stroke weed whacker, filling up the neighborhood with purple smoke and making more noise that a motocross race.

I went back to work the day after I arrived, and hadn't forgotten too much of what I do for a living.

Cindi spent the next two weeks touring around Normandy, visiting monasteries, battlefields and cheese shops, sleeping in airports, etc. But that's her story...