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Guess who's not going to be in Puerto Rico on Thanksgiving Day

As a rule, I don't talk about our travel plans much, because they're likely to fall through at the last minute. The trip to Paris and Amsterdam that we proposed for earlier this month fizzled out sometime in October, making me glad that I hadn't really written anything about it. But even I was surprised, yesterday, when our Thanksgiving Day trip to Puerto Rico became untenable.

There were two culprits. First, there was - is - will be - Hurricane Gamma. According to weather reports, we would be spending our days by the sea under a more or less permanent cloud of rain. That would more or less defeat the purpose, at least for Kathleen, because she really needs the sun right now. The second factor was a combination of the Securities and Exchange Commission (I can say no more than that) and the lack of high-speed Internet connections in the charming casitas at Dorado Beach. (There is, apparently, wi-fi, but Kathleen and I haven't got that far in the alphabet, as Mrs Grimmer would say. Wireless communications don't work in plastered Manhattan apartments.)

At first, I suggested that we postpone the trip a week. But that would interfere with an annual convention that Kathleen never misses. As it happens, the convention is always held in, or just outside of, Phoenix, where the sun shines in a reliable manner at this time of year, so it didn't take screwing in a light bulb for me to suggest that I might accompany her for an extra couple of days before or after the convention. The convention usually takes place at the Biltmore, designed by famous small-person Frank Lloyd Wright - he must have really loathed people of my height, because he certainly created spaces that make me truly uncomfortable - but, this year, it has been moved out to the edge of Scottsdale, to the Hyatt resort at the Gainey Ranch.

So, no sleeping to the sound of surf. A real bummer, that. I will say right now that I have no desire to spend a week in Arizona. Those mountains and open spaces out west - they make me ask if this is still my country. Don't they belong in Mexico? (Yes, they do.) I share with the late Bourbons an idea that nature is very fine in its place - and that it's up to me to decide where that place is. There is something rude and impolite about mountains. It's fine when they're ornamental, as they are in Hong Kong and San Francisco. But there ought never to be more than five or six.

Now, what to do about Thanksgiving? The Puerto Rico trip evolved out of a passionate desire to escape this holiday. We hate the menu! Everybody we know will be somewhere else, which is good for them, but it's a bit demoralizing to spend holidays at home, pretending that they're days like any other. Can anybody recommend a restaurant that, at this late date, has a table for two?


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I was shocked (SHOCKED) when M le Neveu told me that you were going to go to Arizona. K, I can see, but you, dear friend, no. I must see lots of pictures to prove it.

What to do about thanksgiving? Hmmm. I will think on this.

I was just strategizing with a client for whom the holidays are a family nightmare and suggested that she politely decline her family entreaties to party and dine and set her own agenda. She's going to spend Thanksgiving Day with her husband and cook whatever they feel like. I myself don't like turkey, and make a capon which makes it like any other Sunday dinner. This year, after our 100-person-plus early-in-the-day open house -- a 38-year tradition -- I'm having a standing rib roast, normally too large for just me and my father. Yorkshire pudding and Le Sueur peas make it a no-fuss extravagance to enjoy with my sister and her family visiting from CT. (PS Yes, that will include Ginger.) The bottom line is: permit yourself to do whatever the hell you like! Now, having said so, I'm assuming you do NOT want to cook, and no, I don't have a good restaurant recommendation, so fie on moi! And cheers to you and Katheen.

Cafe des Artistes does a smashing T'giving (or at least did) and might have a seat, also Ma. Lourdes and I had a memorable meal one year at The Four Seasons. Hell, go to Maz Mezcal, have a couple of margaritas, have the shrimp and rice and go home happily. No muss, no fuss, no dressing up, no hoping for cabs on a cold and miserable day.......makes me long for my T'giving meal at the Saloon........

I grew up scaling some of the more difficult, pulmonary-edema-causing peaks in the Colorado Rockies, and will always have something of a soft spot for those mountains. However, the state itself is full of everything that is wrong with the US, and I don't really have any intention ever of going back. Denver, in particular, is the archetype of the horrifically sprawled, unlivable American pseudocity: all of the streets seem to be eight lanes wide, and you can't buy an egg without driving somewhere.

Your Thanksgiving despair sounds like my Christmas despair. Maybe you could do what we do on Christmas: hole up in the house with a few good movies, and don't even step outside, so as to avoid seeing how creepily abandoned the town is. (Even Brookline is deserted on Christmas! In a town that is nearly 50% non-Christian [Jews and Asians], I ask you: what's wrong with this picture?)

hey rj what are the charming casitas at DBH, surely not th plebian non descript villas we inhabited for years, our unit 2913 was fronting the putting surface of hole numero dos and looking over the tee to no three, still, to this day, we have happy memories of the exhilerating moments of the indenpendistas negotiating with DC attempting to maintain the status quo of the Jibaros whilst sucking more money out of the u.s taxpayers. gracia a dios, we broke even, keep happy

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