When I was a kid we had to put our car registration into a holder that fit around the steering column and have it turned just so, so the police could see it through the car window. And then they realized the bad guys went around airport parking lots collecting addresses of houses to rob because they'd know you weren't home. They're probably the same guys who read obituaries so they can hit the widow's house while she's at the funeral.
And so I haven't usually written about my travels until I get back home, because the bad guys reading blogs would know when to rob me.
Of course, the only time I was burgled I could have just been at the corner store - they were obviously in and out in probably ten minutes, finding the little stuff that was easily sold in a flea market, leaving the big, expensive things. (I don't even miss all my jewelry or all my 35mm film camera gear.)(I was just sitting at Crissy Field, eating my yogurt, when I looked at this shadow and saw the little tiny rainbows. )
Note to bad guys: I have nothing left to steal and if I do get anything worth stealing you can bet your sweet bootie it will not be here in this house when I go out!