This weekend I am off to Palm Springs, California for work.  It has been described to me as a Palm Beach, Florida with mountains and no coastline, I can only assume that this trip will be one for the book “True Life: The Diary”, an autobiography. I fly out first thing saturday morning, and I have a small hunch that I will spend much of my 6 hour flight drawing, spinning, and contriving yarns wrapped around dangerous events and intriguing conflicts, all of which are false. These yarns will then be spun around the middle aged women of the desert, and off the races we go. See you on the desert dancefloor, watch out for the crop circles and dust tornadoes.