HE WROTE: Trouble, what trouble?

I don't see no stinking trouble.
I have a GPS so we should be able to find the conference hotel on Friday. If not, Jennifer can ask directions.
I have no problem navigating out in nature, it's those damn streets that mess me up. But I get there, wherever there is, eventually.
One time we parachuted into Germany on a 'blind drop' which means no drop zone markings, just trusting to the navigation skills of the pilots and of course we weren't on the drop zone when we landed in the middle of the night. The only way we found out where we were, was the time-honored Special Forces Technique of hiking over to a road junction and checking the signs. I guarantee you if there had been someone about we would NOT have asked directions.
Which reminds of the time we were working with the Danish Fromandskorpset (frogmen) and we did a high speed cast off a patrol boat (which is a technical term for jumping off the boat while it's moving fast), and swam ashore. Took off our dry suits. We were wearing sterile (un-marked) jungle fatigues underneath, running shoes, black watch caps and carrying Swedish submachineguns. So we're running through the streets of this little Danish town trying to make a rendezvous and this cop car turns the corner. He sees 12 guys dressed like that and armed and wisely decided to just keep driving.
Which reminds that I've got a diver out here on the floating dock right now trying to fix it.
Where was I? I don't remember.
I wrote a blog entry yesterday which was a rant about something that's happened recently in the world of publishing but I couldn't post it which I took as an intervention that I shouldn't post it. I try very much to follow the rule of never saying anything bad about other writers, except Jennifer of course.
We'll get Agnes jump started this week. We actually have a plan. Unfortunately, I've had many plans as a writer and none of them have ever turned out like I had planned. The one thing I've learned is that things always turn out the way you least expect.