Trust me: stick to the horse-whispering

Weird thing at the conference last week in Dallas: I'm sitting in the lobby bar, drinking a beer and watching the end of the Sox getting Hosed, and I'm joined by two other conference-ites, one working with the organization running the thing and the other a true lunatic of a compadre from Brownsville. I can't remember how it came up, or who brought it up---which really stinks, as this was one of those Margaret Meed anthropological ninja moments---but somehow it came out that all three of us blogged. I can't remember Martin's address, but stop by and say hi to Jayme, a true nut and a class act. And if you scroll through to the macaroni story, it has Goldstein written all over it.