I realized recently that I wasn't getting my recommended daily allotment of friut, so yesterday I bought some chocolate covered cranberries, thereby killing two birds with one stone. (Authors are notorious for needing daily chocoalte fixes if they're to be productive, which explains why the majority of us are often described as "fluffy." On the bright side, a cold doesn't stand a chance around me. I'm on vitamin C overload at the moment.

Several readers have asked how I managed to fall off a criuse ship, so here goes. (Another day I should have stayed in bed.)

HOW TO FALL (GRACEFULLY) OFF A CRUISE SHIP 101
First, book a week-long cruise down the Nile on a four-storied Egyptian luxury liner. They hold 500 or so passengers.
Second, hired a personal guide. These gentlemen only charge $25.00 a day and have advanced degrees in archeology. When he asks if you'd like to take a side-trip around Elephantine Island, say yes.
Next, dress appropriately. For starters I recommend a large-brimmed picture hat with trailing ribbons (I'm told the fluttering streamers add a nice dramatic touch as you plunge,) sensible shoes, and a cotton shirtwaist dress. The full skirt will provide some much-needed parachute effect.
Next follow your guide to the open starboard door. When you look out, you'll see a nearly vertical 2 x 12 plank leaning against the ship which ends in dinky, single-sail skiff 2 stories below. No gangway, no railing, only the plank. Do not panic. Do not think, "They can't be serious? I'm not walking down that thing!" They are and you will. This, after all, is research.
Place your left hand firmly on the crown of your hat (God forbid you should lose it and expose your complexion to the ravages of the equatorial sun), girdle your loins, and step into the unknown. At this point the skiff should move, the board will separate from the ship's door since there's nothing keeping it attached, and you and the plank will fall. As you do, your husband will doubtless scream, "GRAB THE CABLE!"
A word of note: If you've never listened to this man even once in your life, now would be a good time to start. Do what he says...lunge for the skiff's steel sail cable with your right hand (the left being fully occupied with keeping your hat on.)
You'll end up with rope burns across you right palm and arm the likes of which you've never seen, but it beats the heck out of a broken neck. As for the landing, I highly recommend the two point, feet-to-butt form over the much-touted butt-to-head landing. You may be limping for days, will need a whoopy cushion to sit, but your skirt will settle nicely around you, and better yet, you won't have a concussion.
Since you've caused everyone to panic, now would be a good time to force a smile and shout up to your owl-eyed guide and clever hubby, "I'm fine. Just fine."
As soon as they join you in the skiff, do pay close attention to your guide's demeanor. He's likely suicidal. He's already lost you in a ruin. When he and your hubby finally found you after an hour-long search, the guide had muttered, "Now I shall never have children." Understandably confused, you'd said, "I don't understand." He'd patted his crotch and confessed, "I feared you'd been taken by extremists. These are now shriveled like walnuts." Yes, your mind just formed a picture you never thought to imagine, but be that as it may, this gentleman is ready to slit his throat. You see, there's a special reason for this trip. My hotelier husband is in negotiations with the Egptian government's Department of Tourism. They want him to build 2 more cruise ships. :)


Sandy