Hi friends,

Tour prep? What do you mean tour prep? You get on the plane, you go, right? Not so fast. Not for me.

I have a history of tour trouble. I once took the natural disaster tour of North America. Blizzards, monsoons, and yes, a minor earthquake in California – I remember that, Thousand Oaks! Plus I tend to come back from tours in bad shape. Once I couldn’t lift my left arm. Frozen shoulder, said the orthopedist, six months of physical therapy. Then I couldn’t lift my right arm Frozen shoulder, said the orthopedist, very rare to get it on both sides, six months of you-know-what. Then my back went out. I’m a tall woman. Sitting in cramped airplane seats doesn’t agree with me, and we won’t go into the fact that I don’t like planes to begin with. I’m a control freak. Control freaks like to pilot the vehicles in which they travel. Plus I’m more than mildly paranoid. People tell me they look around airport lounges suspiciously since 9/11. Me, I’ve searched for terrorists on every flight I’ve ever taken.

So this time, when it became evident that I was going to tour, I decided to take action. Nothing I could do about the weather. (My publisher – bless them -- decided to send me out in May. No blizzards in May.) But I figured I could do something about my tendency to physically fall apart on the road. Despite Carlotta’s aversion to health clubs, I joined one. (With my shoulders and back, I can’t play volleyball anymore.) And I hired a personal trainer.

She was taller than I am, well over six feet. She drove a Harley. She looked like she could pick me up and throw me across the room without breaking a sweat. (I’m sure she’ll make an appearance in a book sooner or later.) I met with her two or three days a week for two months. She taught me exercizes appropriate for hotel rooms, and how to take advantage of hotel health clubs. She gave me confidence that I could sling my luggage without destroying my shoulders.

And it worked. I’m home and healthy.

More soon.

Best regards,

Linda