You might as well be in on it, I'm so far in now, I can't not tell you. You know I'm pitching my memoir about aging and I've been making baby steps, at least forward steps, teensy as they are. So now I have been asked for "support" of my work: a one-sentence summary of the book, a one-page summary of the book and a list of key selling points to convince the editorial committee that their publisher should publish my book and to enable the publicity staff to convince people to buy it if and when it's published. How's that for homework, to be delivered on Monday morning? I have the weekend to write it. Isn't it a good thing I'm not on a ship in the Indian Ocean?

My father used to talk about the School of Life, with new lessons every day and regular tests. You never actually graduate, just keep going on until the course is finished. I'm not through yet.

And I'll write a bigger blog when I've finished writing this other stuff.

Paper paper everywhere and not a chance to think. I'm going through all the Cruise Connections papers because the trip may be about to happen, at last. I received the new travel document today, a catalogue of the truncated tour and its excursions. I have a pile of paper connected with it, including all my shots and pills and preparation and a whole file on what to pack. I must simplify and pare down and be ready to focus on each day as it comes. A blog is very good for that. It should be like a sundial, I think, counting only the sunny hours. Is that possible?

Well, I love paper in most of its forms but not this disparate heap of noodges, directions, information, instructions and reminders. My brain feels quite mushy from all the handling and decision-making. I'm trying to finish everything so I can go lightly.

It feels, in a way, as if I'm preparing to step off the edge of the earth. We'll see.