I�ve left panic mode and begun the self-coercion phase of my pre-travel. I am totally stressed out in a ridiculous way about the trip to Miami this week. I used to love to travel. But then, I used to travel all the time. It�s not the post-September 11 stuff that stresses me out or even that I�m married to a confirmed planeaphobic. I was in a plane that had to make an emergency landing while on a school trip sans parents when I was 12. If I was going to be afraid to fly, it would have happened a long time ago. But somehow the fear of death takes over as you age. Or maybe it�s having a kid. I wouldn�t feel so bad if I felt like I were worried about something worth worrying about. But really, I feel more vulnerable because I feel like I�m in a better position to make a good headline than when I was single. You never hear about single, childless people going down in plane crashes. You hear about the young children left motherless, the distraught husbands unable to cope. I feel like it�s more dangerous to fly now because it would cause more trouble if something happened. It would be more poignant. That�s not too crazy. Welcome to my world. The ridiculousness of my concern is compounded by the fact that a significant portion of my family will be spending the same period of time in Jerusalem and Tashkent. I need to get over it and worry about something constructive. Like how I�m going to survive four days in hose and high heels.

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Throughout yesterday�s rambling about music I cited Edward Said, having no idea that the guy had died the day before. No disrespect intended.Here�s his obit in today�s NY Times if anyone wants to read more. While you�re in the neighborhood, you might want to check out George Plimpton�s obit. What an amazing life he had. As if he sprung to life out of a Hemingway novel. And I suppose it�s not really fair to leave Robert Palmer out of the mix. Requiescant in pace.

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Hmm. Today�s entry�s turning into kind of a downer. It must be the weather, which is looking rather menacing. Omnibus, as we like to say around here in the Harriet household, thinking we�re being cute. But it�s often accurate. Bad weather here tends to be a collection of meteorological oddities. Not, in fact, unlike this entry.

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