Oh, God, I'm Repeating Myself...

Yes, it's travel time again, and once more I will be following in the brave, befuddled shoes of Dr. Howard Bannister and jetting out to San Francisco.

I trust that the lodgings found for me by the part-time sadists in the Golden Handcuffs Consulting Amalgamated International travel office will be a little more salubrious than those at 459 Dirello Street (if not quite up to the mid-seventies splendor of the legendary Hotel Bristol), and that my days will be a little more peaceful than Dr. Bannister's.

If our plans hold, once I've done a couple of weeks of business, Mr. Muscato will jet out and join me for a California adventure, as we motor down the Pacific Coast Highway and see what we shall see. If I'm very lucky, I'll be meeting up with various familiar figures around here, possibly even taking advantage of dear Felix's encyclopedic knowledge of All Things Hollywood. I may even work up the nerve to hang out with Peenee, if he'll have me.

I'm looking forward to a return visit to the lovely city by the Bay, and even more to avoiding all the hoopla that will be going on in Our Nation's Capital. Far better to be eating oysters and quaffing a little bubbly in a quaint bistro on Belden Place than contemplating the installation of Cheetolini, don't you think?