Marriott International chairman J. W. "Bill" Marriott, Jr., will be the guest at our next Q&A Cafe on Tuesday, April 9 at the Ritz Carlton Georgetown hotel. We will discuss his life and business and his new book, "Without Reservations," which will also be available for purchase and signing. Please make a reservation and join us. Seating begins at noon, the fee is $38 -- covering all food, soft beverages, dessert from Georgetown Cupcake, tax and tip. We wrap by 1:3o, at the latest. To make a reservation, please contact the Ritz at 202.912.4100, or email Esmaralda Prifold.
Coming on Thursday, May 9 - Christopher Kennedy Lawford.
For several weeks I've been thinking that this is the year the Staycation will be the trend across the country. This morning, in a report on rapidly rising travel costs, NBC News as much as said the same thing. Having just returned from a week-long trip, I can testify to how ambitious and expensive it is to have even a modest journey. After making monthly payments on the mortgage, the car, utilities, insurance and a few other essential bills, I barely have money left to buy food, and certainly not clothing or other indulgences, much less consider a holiday. Hey, but at least I'm employed. No small thing. And I created a college fund for my son 15 years ago. (Phew!) Honestly, I don't know how people get by who have 2, 3 or 4 children. I can't imagine.
The trip to Austin and New Orleans was possible because I raced to consignment and sold as much of my stuff that would sell, used points for airline tickets, got a good price on a good hotel in Austin (the Stephen Austin Intercontinental) and we stayed with friends in New Orleans. For meals we sought affordable quality. We did the $20.12 prix fix lunch at three of NoLa's "grand dames" - Galatoire's, Antoine's and Commander's Palace - and these meals were delicious. Also, martinis were 25-cents. So we had that and it was good. But one step over the line of restraint and the trip would have been unaffordable.
I know I'm not alone. At a recent lunch with a successful Washington business owner I was frankly shocked to learn that her current financial plight is the same as mine: simply not able to make ends meet due to the rising costs of everything. What we're each earning is good, but income is not enough, and in her profession -- the food industry -- the forecast is not promising. She's put her home up for sale.
This brings us back to the Staycation. Done right and well it can be as rewarding as any lavish getaway. Certainly innovative. The secret is to be into it, to embrace it as an opportunity, a bounty of possibilities. And by Staycation I don't mean take a week off but at home, doing chores and watching "America Idol" at night. You gotta go away from the zone of routine ... only not too far away, and nothing that involves planes or trains.
If I were a DC hotel manager, rather than going overboard in promoting ridiculous $40K+ inauguration suite packages that aren't the draw this time around, I would be thinking of ways to lure in the many residents of the Metro area for an affordable but quality spring or summer holiday spree. A three-day weekend at the right place, at the right price, with a few perks, can fully rejuvenate the body and mind without slaying the wallet.
There are borders to a Staycation. For me the measure is any getaway that is down the street or within a 2-3 hour drive. So, that could include Colonial Williamsburg, Annapolis, Middleburg and environs, a cabin on Skyline Drive, the region around St. Mary's or Solomons Island, Maryland; Baltimore, the Eastern Shore; journeys that can involve raft trips, canoeing, hiking, climbing (Old Rag remains a fun challenge), sailing, antiquing, good food and drink, historic touring, and plain old chill time, reading a good book.
If a person were to decide to do an at-home Staycation there would be rules. For example, no chores. No going through the mail. Turn off the smartphone. Treat the house as if it is a rental, and behave as a tourist in one's own home, neighborhood and town. Movie matinees. Theater. Maybe some meals out -- but at new places -- and stock up on some fun foods and appealing recipes to indulge in with a little time on your hands.
Every time I get together with a friend who is also trying to survive this Great Recession, we say, "it has to be over soon." And then it just seems to get worse. That's because businesses that weren't raising prices now have no choice but to make up for their losses. It's like the payroll tax. It's make-up time. As people have less expendable income, the cost of living is more. We're living through a time that will be looked back on the way we look back on the Great Depression. People got through that - somehow. We will get through this - somehow, too. But a Staycation might help to preserve sanity.
(I'll have more on this theme in coming weeks.)
It was the virgin flight of new Virgin America non-stop service between DCA and SFO. Of course, there were Obama and Romney impersonators on the flight. (Aren't there always in an election year). But here's the best part, a regular passenger, who coincidentally took the flight, looked like a clone of Paul Ryan ... at least in our eyes.
Am I right or am I right? Dude was totally surprised, but was a good sport about posing with his running mate, fake Mitt Romney. Read about him, his identity and the rest of the story tomorrow at washingtonian.com.
A gorgeous, pink powder stretch of beach on the south shore of Bermuda, in Paget. At one end is the Elbow Beach Hotel (begging for a remake of "The Shining") and at the other end is the Coral Beach Club, a nearly perfect island retreat. A bit of trivia: The Weather Channel's Jim Cantore reported from this beach during Hurricane Irene in 2010. This video was shot with my iPhone 4S on July 18 2012.
One minute that will calm whatever gives you angst (unless it's being on this beach). Free transportation to the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, the middle of the Gulf Stream, the big blue, where the big fish live. The nearest hotel is Coral Beach Club. (For full screen, click the upper left)
I probably won't rest until I get all my friends to visit Austin at least once. Until then, I write about it whenever I can. Today, on New York Social Diary, I have a report about my recent week-long visit to this very 21st Century American city. Lots of pics of good food and views. Please give it a read: Keep Austin Weird.
I'm back in DC after a terrific week in what I like to think of as a home away from home, Austin. I can't recommend this city enough as a fun, interesting, relaxing and especially declious getaway for people over age 21. There will be more later. Now I have to get into gear after flying in late last night to BWI, made brave by my usual combo of one Attivan and one vodka.
Actually the flight was smooth, but I think that's because of the cowboy reading the Bible conscientiously for a full hour before take-off. Or, maybe it's because Karl Rove was on board and the air Gods didn't dare get him upset. Actually, he was lowkey, sat on the aisle in the exit row, and didn't draw any attention to himself ... except for reading the Wall Street Journal. I did want to know why he was there. Making up with Rick Perry? Visiting W? A client in the Austin mayor's race?
In addition to a holiday for me the trip was a reunion with my son, just finishing up exams in his sophomore year of college (and, yay, still holding at a 3.7 GPA). We are equally food nuts, and relaxation was a daily exploration of Austin's many excellent restaurants. They are not formal, but they are fabulous or enchanting and always authentic and the food is reliably innovative or classic and good.
I will write more about that, later...
Just back from an overnight visit to New York. Train up, train back, Surrey Hotel, wonderful weather, dining, browsing and shopping. Lunch today with my former bosses at New York Social Diary, David Patrick Columbia and Jeff Hirsch.
One of the great perks of DC is that NY is such an easy getaway. Back home here, Washingtonian launched our new website. Check it out. My stuff, if you want to find it specifically. will ususally be filed under "Capital Comment."
It's a bummer to leave NY, but a joy to be home.
There were so many times in my life when I was "stranded," in one form or another, out in the world, in various countries and cities, at airports, at train stations, at boat docks, whatever, not sure what was next or how I'd get there, but figuring it out, and here I am.
Maybe I'm envious, missing my vagabond days, but I'll also be happy when he texts to report he's home in Texas.
UPDATE SATURDAY MORNING: My son's group, four of them, hung at the Aeromar counter for three hours last night to try to set things right. Aeromar said they had booked them on the United flight to Houston this morning. The kids were at United just after dawn, but there's no such reservations.
UPDATE: They are being told by United that they can't fly out until Sunday evening, but I see open seats online!
UPDATE: Just spent the last hour on the phone, actually two phones. On one phone I had an agent at United, on the other my son at the airport with a United ticket agent. Both ends of United had different information. United on the phone showed available seats for 3 different flights today, United at the gate did not. Back and forth, back and forth. At one moment they were offered free seats, the next the same seats were $898 each. Chaos.
UPDATE: My son just said, "we'll fly to anywhere in the U.S. Just get us out of this airport." Ha.
UPDATE NOON: Three of the four of them have made it onto a scheduled flight that departs in two hours; one is on standby but at the top of the list. They were given access to a club lounge and provided with breakfast.
UPDATE: Thanks to phone calls to United, getting (politely) up in their grills at the Mexico City ticket counter, and patience, my son and his three friends got on a flight late this afternoon. They have arrived in Houston. Back in the USSA.
On New York Social Diary a return to what I consider the most memorable columns of the last 12 months, including social life, travel, restaurants and rants.
I hope I represented Washington well. fyi, NYSD has more than 600,000 unique visitors a month, and the readership is global in a strong way. I receive reader messages from all over the world and I appreciate every one. Please give this compilation a read: Washington Social Diary's 2011 Memorabe Moments.
Have you ever wandered in a great airport late at night? I got that opportunity tonight at Dulles, waiting waiting waiting for a loved one's flight to come in. The airport is full of memories. I remember when it opened. I remember going there for the first time on a dinner date when I was a teenager. Yes. True.
Dulles had an elegant white tablecloth restaurant, overlooking the runways, with waiters in black tie. Back in the stone age it was considered quite cool for us city folk to go out there, sit by a window, and watch the many 747's take off for Europe and the West Coast among the cornflower blue runway lights. Dinner of Chateaubriand with Pommes Souffle accompanied by fine wines. It was a great place hang with friends before their flights.
Now all they have is one pre-security greasy spoon, Harry's, where I had French fries for dinner, and some newsstands. (Though, if you go down to international arrivals, it is possible to get a salad and sandwiches, yogurt, fruit and See's candies. I learned this too late!)
Dulles was the kind of airport where seeing a friend off, or welcoming them upon arrival, was a big deal. It was so damned glamorous. Difficult to describe to those who don't remember the glory days of flight. I recall my whole family going out there to see a couple of writer friends off to L.A. That was all the excuse we needed. Same elegant restaurant as with that date mentioned above, but this time Sunday afternoon champagne brunch. The friends heard their flight called, said good-bye, and then we watched their 747 taxi and climb into the sky while finishing the champagne.
I'd sieze any opportunity to greet an arriving friend, even once booking a town car to take me out to meet a boyfriend returning on the Red Eye from L.A. He was surprised and delighted.
I suppose my most mournful moments are when walking by where the Concorde lounge used to be, if I may be allowed that memory. Concorde was almost affordable in the mid-80s, especially when buying one ticket here and the other over there, where the exchange rate was hugely favorable to the dollar. The lounge was in the lower concourse, tucked away, a simple unmarked white door.
Oh, my Lord. What a treat that lounge was, especially for a white knuckle flyer like me, not to mention the thrills of that sleek supersonic bird. In the lounge British Airways served Dom Perignon while you waited for the flight to be called. Hosts and hostesses escorted passengers from the lounge to the gate. It was all about ease. The flight was one long meal, and passengers left with good swag: Concorde baggage tags, notebooks, travel kits. Upon landing in London or Paris, customs was all about open arms, and chauffered cars waited to deliver passengers to their hotels or other destinations. (All 100 of us were usually, well, smashed after a three hour flight/meal with multiple courses and wines plus cognacs.)
The massive, intense, tight security of today has changed everything about the airport experience. Back in the day you could say "good-bye" or "hello" at the gate. Just like in the movies. It could be so romantic. Now friends and lovers part at the TSA entry points. Not so romantic. I don't know if any of this security is going to stop the bad guys. If it doesn't, the next phase will be inducing all passengers into a coma during flight so no one can pull a stunt (hello Alec Baldwin).
I know. I know. Airports will never be what they were. No more than it will be possible for citizens to walk right up to the front door of the White House. But as I walked the shiny, spit polished floors of Dulles, mixing among the departees and the arrivals, I felt the enduring elixer of travel's magic. At International Arrivals families reunited in warm embraces. Drivers held signs with names that were from Europe, Asia, Latin America. The mix of languages made an audible tapestry.
Then there was the happy end of the story. After walking hither and yon in the terminal, and my dismal potato dinner, and an hour or so of memory lane, my darling loved one arrived, most of all safely, and we did as so many others do round the clock at the world's airports: we took it all for granted.
Washingtonian magazine takes a special look as Dulles celebrates its 50th anniversary.
A travel report on my quick trip last week to Florida, on New York Social Diary today: "A Disney and Daytona Interlude."
The trip was part business and part pleasure, but the business was also pleasure and I made the pleasure into business. So, there ya go. All too brief a visit, and really did not want to head back north at the end. I'm so over winter--already. Tough sitatuion since it hasn't begun. Which is why I would move to Texas, and there are parts of Florida I like, too. Especially Miami. Miami is sweet and has it all - style, food, culture, sports, energy - plus ocean and weather. Alas, no Miami this trip.
Here's a glimpse of the Occupy Austin movement as it manifested itself yesterday in a march held before the UT-OSU football game. Those heading to the game formed a long march, too, only the football fans were a sea of burnt oranze, the OA marchers were adorned mostly with posters.
We went to the football game and it was something to behold. My first state university game. Quite a spectacle. There's so much going on, so much to watch, plus also a football game. Unfortunately the Longhorns lost, but that didn't stop anyone from having a good time. I will be recovering for a week from my weekend in Austin, because in Texas, like Texas, they party big.
There was so much more that went on in the 48 hours we were in Austin. All of it fun and interesting, including a behind the scenes private tour of the LBJ Presidential Museum. A visit to Allen's Boots. Great Mex and great American food. But, at the moment, it's time for a little rest.
My weekly New York Social Diary column today is the wrap up to our Texas road trip, this leg bringing us home ... through Shreveport, Vicksburg, Jackson and Chicago. There was so much to cover: the beauty of the open road, touring a historic Civil War battlefield in Vicksburg, "the best" fried chicken, some real Coca-Cola, an interlude in Jackson and a glorious day in Chicago. Read it here. Apologies to the Daley family for confusing Richard and Bill. It will be corrected.
Anybody who's read my recent columns knows I've gone a little bonkers for Texas. Last week I wrote about Dallas, this week's column focuses on Austin. Lots of thoughts, lots of pictures, lots of good food. Please give it a read here.
INTO THE HEATWAVE
Some people drive away from a heat wave. We drove into the heart of it. A week’s road trip – mother and son -- Washington to Texas. We made a mid-way stop in Nashville. The trip was always hot, temps rarely under 100 and once or twice as high as 112 - but it was also always interesting. I love America’s open road. There’s so much to see, hear, experience and, of course, eat. Road food is no diet but it would be a crime to count calories within 50 yards of a dry ribs place in Memphis or a Filete Cantinflas in Texas. It’s that simple.
Best of all, it’s healthy to get out of Washington. The city, the official city especially, is so into itself and alternately guilt-ridden or letting itself off the hook for bad manners, bad leadership, bad decisions. The power base (elected officials, media, lobbyists) inhabit a cocoon of each others’ voices, and that’s the disconnect. In the midst of the debt-ceiling crisis I attended a dinner of Democrats, a few hundred of them, many members of the House and Senate and other big names in the party, and the speeches (and there are always speeches) barely touched on the crisis happening just outside the auditorium where we feasted on catered food and good wine, as if the mess was not happening. Like, “if we don’t talk about the sky won’t fall.” I laughed to myself but it wasn’t funny.
Out on the American open road the sound track is sometimes akin to beaming in voices from alien planets. My rental car had satellite radio, enabling me to switch between outer space, I mean the mainstream (CNN, MSNBC, FoxNews), and the local terrestrial stations. You have to search hard to find those stations that aren’t overrun with syndicated conservative rant, such as Rush Limbaugh, who spews and sputters, near ready to implode from the frustration of his self-proclaimed wisdom.
Authentic, regional local radio is quieter. People are talking – about themselves, to each other -- about fear, honest frustration and anger toward Washington, and telling personal stories. The husband who lost his job a while ago and now the wife has lost hers. Or they can’t refinance the mortgage. Or, they are living almost entirely on credit cards. Health care. Education. Retirement funds, college tuition? Is anyone in charge? Do they care about us out there?
Outside the car windows, beautiful America rolled by.
Read the full story at NewYorkSocialDiary.com Click on the Elvis!
My regular Monday New York column has a little something for everyone, beginning with the American flags distributed throughout Georgetown this past weekend. Interesting where one ended up. Also Washington Kastles tennis begins today down at the team's new stadium on the Maine Avenue waterfront, where a week ago I boarded Jeff Pfeifle's yacht Sea Loafers for a lovely cocktail gathering, a prelude to surgery for Jeff's friend, Adam Mahr. Reluctant to give up the watery theme, I also attended a fascinating gala for explorers and exploration hosted by, (who else?), National Geographic Society, and featuring a humble James Cameron. Read it all here on New York Social Diary.
I may be a white knuckle flyer but I love airports, especially good airports. Reagan National, since being made over, is an airport gem. I wish they had apartments in the terminal. I would live there. Dulles was a gem, but its owners ruined it with overdevelopment. Back in the "Come Fly With Me" era, Dulles was actually a dinner destination for Washingtonians. At the rear of the main concourse, between the docking bays for the shuttle buses, they had a sleek and sophisticated restaurant that overlooked the airport. At night the runways were up close (there was no mid-field terminal) and they were marked with lights that included white but also dazzling cornflower blue and fire engine red. It was possible to sit at a window table, white tablecloth, flowers, crystal wine glasses, silver flatware, excellent food and service, and the entertainment was to watch 747's land and take-off. It was romantic, especially if seeing someone off or meeting someone. Or, even just for the fun of it.
Quietly, but effectively, flight announcements could be heard in the dining room. "Air France to Paris, boarding now;" "British Airways to London, boarding now;" "Pan Am to Rome, boarding now;" "TWA to Los Angeles, boarding now." And so on. Whenever I had a dinner date at Dulles I always brought along my passport -- just in case.
They also had very swanky private clubs and lounges, especially the Concorde lounge, where Dom Perignon was the house drink. Sigh. I was fortunate to fly the British Concorde a half dozen times, and the French a couple of times. Memorable, exceptional experiences. Those were the days. But even subsonic flying was a treat. I remember TWA having actual menus in the back of the plane, not just up front, and the menus had choices among steak, chicken or fish. I remember wine lists, cocktails in actual glasses (again, in economy), and nice blankets and pillows. Flying was hot, not just transportation, not the ordeal it is today.
But back to Reagan. Even though I didn't sell piles and piles of books at the Borders there yesterday (we sold some) it was still a treat to spend a few hours in the concourse, observing. I watched the human comings and goings, the rituals, the pace of those passing through mixed with the ambling of those with jobs in the building, going about their business. So much about an airport is well-oiled, smooth, calm, as it should be. The psychology is very clear: soothe the passenger, prepare the passenger to step aboard a metal tube and zoom through the air at hundreds of miles an hour. The calm creates a sense of security.
There are distractions, of course. The shops and restaurants, which are welcomed. The scent of Cinnabon, which overwhelms and should be called Sinabon. The Transportation Security Administration checkpoints, irritating but unavoidable, a fact of modern life. Reagan offers soaring architecture, too. The floors shine like fresh ice. I want to skate on them in socks. Or do cartwheels from one end to the other. Or be the person who runs the buffer. How rewarding.
I've always thought Reagan would be a great place to produce a TV talk show. Back when I was one of the show's producers I thought Larry King Live should have moved its studio there. I'd still like to see a daily syndicated "live" talk show originate from there and, yes, I wouldn't mind at all being the producer and host. The guests would be all those marvelous people passing through, each with stories to tell, each coming from something, going to something, and mixed in with them would be the usual suspects, the notables, the newsmakers.
Jon Moss and I once looked into opening The Q&A Cafe at the airports. It would serve both as an airport bar, modeled a little on Nathans, but also a media-centric restaurant packed with TV's broadcasting the news from every global network, ipad like devices built into the tables (much like the juke boxes of old), where patrons could call up whatever media they wanted to read or watch. Youtube terminals, and racks of old school newspapers and magazines. We'd also use it for taping my show and re-running past interviews. It was a good idea. Why didn't it happen? Money, of course. I had none.
Yesterday at my signing table, with my "Please Buy My Book" plea before me on the table (after I had to take down from the glass), I spent time talking to passengers, pilots, airport staff, but in between I let my mind wander to all the possibilities of interesting ways the concourse could be used to communicate. Ooooh, that would be a fun job, and it would be almost living there.
Last July my son and I took a trip to Bermuda. It was a wonderful getaway. We celebrated my birthday and enjoyed pleasant hours doing not much more than swimming, sunbathing and reading. USAirways made it an easy trip; we flew out of Reagan, nonstop round trip. Alas, those flights don't exist anymore, which is a drag, but Bermuda's still there, and I imagine the water temperature is at the 80 degrees it was last July. Simply perfect and crystal clear.
During our trip we stayed at the beautiful Coral Beach Club. I took photos and wrote a story for New York Social Diary. I noted that the CBC was about to be taken over by Four Seasons Hotels, that it was scheduled to be renovated to fit the chain's standards. Members of CBC were not happy. Now that deal has gone away, and NYSD today re-posted my story with an update. It's the next best thing to actually being in Bermuda. But be warned: it will make you want to go tomorrow. Read it here.
My evening began at 5 o'clock, with a meeting to talk about my future. Then Scott Sforza picked me up and we drove downtown to a party on the rooftop of the Hay-Adams Hotel hosted by Jim Justice, owner of the Greenbrier Resort. They served excellent Woodford Reserve Mint Juleps. The purpose was to introduce new train travel between Washington and the Greenbrier. One guest said, "I hope they'll use an Acela engine." I don't know about that, but however you get there the Greenbrier is a great getaway.
After I returned home and changed there was time for a walk along the Potomac. That's when I caught the pic at the top. It's the photo of the day.
Life forced me to learn how to drive, at age 47, but learning how to drive gave me new opportunities and personal strengths, and made possible the best summer trip ever, driving cross country and back with my then 13-year-old son, Spencer.
From LEARNING TO DRIVE: "By the time this long-haul journey happened we were veteran road-trippers, a mother-son team who found emotional recovery and an eternal bond on the highway and, in particular, in a car. It was a milestone on many levels, but especially because I was in so many ways a new driver."
Read more here.
It's tough to figure out where to begin on a blog post such as this one, but let's just leave it to this: my holiday weekend has been defined so far by hot dogs, lobster roll, limeade, Mojitos, French rose wine, grilled chicken, ice cream, movie matinees, a Sunday night party with friends, a good book, tank tops (yes, even with breast cancer surgery, it's doable!), Coppertone (the smell recalls 100 summers, even those I haven't lived yet), there some tanning, naps the Lovin' Spoonful's "Summer in the City" (ancient but still iconic),because, after all, I'm doing it urban. No beach, no country, no mountains for me this weekend. It's been asphalt and bricks and back gardens, and all good.
As for the limeade and lobster rolls, I always return to one treasured (and almost ten-years-old) cookbook, which is named, appropriately, The Lobster Roll. Buy it now and I promise it will be worn and stained (in a good way) by Labor Day. It is my summer go-to. And here's the special feature of well made (meaning fresh) limeade: the base converts perfectly for Mojitos!! Just add rum and mint. I took a big bucket of same to the swingin' shindig/book party hosted for me last night by neighbors Margaret and David Dunning.
The party rocked and we sold books. I love these small at-home book parties. It was a 6-8 that went until 11pm! At the beginning I didn't know most of the guests, but by the end I did. As I noted, summer in the city.
Would I like to be on a beach? Of course. But a nearly empty beach. After writing my NYSD column this morning, I stole away to the air-conditioned peace of my local Bijou and watched Woody Allen's "Midnight in Paris." In true Woody fashion it is full of itself, but in true Woody-of-olden-days fashion it has some authentic humor and it is a Valentine. His best films always are a Valentine to something: Manhattan, the boroughs, appropriate women, inappropriate women, the U.K., and with this film, Paris. OMG, it's my Paris, too, and I missed it, but loved seeing it lookin' so good.
We should all be young and in love and in Paris. Or in love and in Paris. Plus Le Train Bleu to the Riviera!
On New York Social Diary today I write about my trip to Richmond for the gala opening night of the Musee Picasso exhibition at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts. For me it was much more than a social event because its not possible to visit Richmond without time-traveling in history and considering what it means to be a Virginian. Also, I shine some light on where I stayed, the lovely Jefferson Hotel. It has cinema connections: to both "Gone With the Wind" and "My Dinner with Andre."
If you live in the DC area, this trip is easy to do: 92 miles from here to there. The Picasso exhibition is a delight, as is the entire museum. But make sure to spend the night at The Jefferson.
For New York Social Diary "Dining" today I write about a recent visit to New York City's crowded and stylish Lavo, where the signature dish is a giant Kobe meatball. Also popular is the Oreo Zeppole, double stuffed Oreo cookies served with a vanilla malted milkshake. Filling? Yes. But that's the point. Read more here.
The Q&A Cafe interview with Christopher Kennedy Lawford will air on Friday May 17 at 8 pm on DCN, channel 16. We discuss his life, his addictions, his recovery and it's all good. Please tune in.
Author, interviewer, and photographer. Read more...
Here is information for book clubs that have chosen Innocent Spouse: Book Club Discussions...