The Kosta Boda snowball: the classiest affordable gift of the 80's, born in 1973 FOR THE BENEFIT of those D ownunder: last month was Thanksgiving, the day when 'mericans down tools and celebrate the "the blessing of the harvest and the preceding year," according to Wikipedia . It's more like the blessing of the buffet, and generally not a day to bear gifts except for oneself, what with stores now opening on the actual day of thanks...is nothing sacred? As an advertising/marketing pundit I use retail therapy to keep abreast of product design and retailing strategies (ok that's my excuse). My destination? The TJ Maxx outlet in Wilton, Connecticut, where I'm visiting for the holiday. Today it was empty. One explanation: TJ's merchandise is always on sale, so there's no real reason to make a beeline for it on Black Friday. "You're the first customer to acknowledge that," said the bored attendant at the jewelry...
Since my book The Handsomest Man in Cuba was first published in 2003, several people have gone over and used it to track down some of the people I met and stayed with. You can read about some of those encounters in this set of blog posts . But I fell out of my saddle when Ken Lyneham from Australia actually went out of his way to locate the Handsomest Man himself. He's not the photographer on the cover (who could well be taking a photo of the Handsomest Man, or maybe SeƱor Hassleblad is just handsome inside) - but the hunk I met at the only fancy hotel I stayed in. And let me get the record straight - I shook his hand and that was it. So many people have written saying ... didja ... ? Puh-lese. Allow me to read you the closing line in that paragraph of daydreaming: "I let go of his hand." Yes, fully clothed and standing either side of a chicken wire gate we were, when we stopped shaking hands. Get it? More thrillingly, Ken tracked down Lolita - the most beautifu...
Dec 2014: University of Hawaii Forestry Professor JB Friday helps me nip an invasive albezia tree in the bud UPDATE: December 2024: The end of an era. I no longer own my sliver of fern-covered lava in Hawaii. It's been 18 years since I signed on the dotted line with a vague dream of following the flip-flops of my friend Ann Kobsa, whose 99.9% sustainable life in the Big Island was the initial inspiration to take the plunge (scroll way down for the lowdown on that). But here I am, clearly a city mouse, because the closest I ever got to moving there was... well, talking about it. But, over the years, it gave me a wonderful excuse to visit IMO "the best place in America," where the sun and rain are free, where you can technically live under a tarp year round... the closest you can get to "true survival." Who doesn't secretly romance being off the grid? Over the years the cost of holding onto this 8429 sqft, pizza-slice-shaped lot land rose...
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