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There should be about 6 here, plus the one that came out today.

More soon!

In the meantime, go to Luxist and click on my name -- there you'll find my most recent articles... just as an aside, my article on Herbert Kohler and his purchase of Hamilton Hall garnered over 20,000 viewers and readers.  Such a surprise! More soon!  REALLY!

South Pacific was one of my mother's favorites also, and it was the first music I ever remember hearing. She had seen it in New York with the original Broadway cast -- Mary Martin and Ezio Pinza back in the day. She played many of the songs on the piano, and one of her favorites was Some Enchanted Evening. That romantic story meant something far beyond the story itself, something personal, hopeful, that love could still conquer all. To us, the story seems at times somewhat silly, I mean, what Broadway musical isn't.. somewhat silly? But it is the music that moves the story line on, and moved me to tears, through the memory my mother's impassioned singing and piano playing.

What would she have thought of this revival? I wonder if she would have cared that Kelli O'Hara and Paulo Szot were not the living embodiments of her remembered Nellie Forbush and Emile DeBecque? I think she would not have cared at all -- the music still soars, the last hand clasp of Nellie and Emile, foretelling that eventually all will be right with the world, would have been enough for her as it was enough for me. Upon leaving Lincoln Center, I wondered when my mother actually did see South Pacific and what kind of world she walked back into? I melded with my mother's memory that evening, understanding that no matter what year it was,the wind was still brisk and at my back,, the lights were still bright, and hope for more enchanted evenings were still very much alive and kicking.

I was enchanted by many little things on this trip - the weather being one. I am from California, so a warm winter was not unusual for me, but the weather in Miami was so perfect, warm and cloudless, that it seemed, when looking at other parts of the TV weather map, that I was in paradise.

Rain in the west, snow in the midwest and east, and then, in Florida, it's cloudless and perfect. Like in Arizona, this is the reward Floridians get for putting up with hot, miserable Summers. But I had never been in Florida in December, and especially THIS December when so much weather misery afflicted the rest of the country.

One of the images above is a simple one -- on the 28th floor of my hotel suite, looking down at the ocean below. AHHH! Comfort and Joy! A Florida Christmas!

Haddon the webmaster here. I just read a really nice mention of Susan and her work in the Publisher's Note of the new Executive Living supplement written by President & Publisher Phillip G. Wren.

The entire supplement can be found HERE.

Because Susan is on the road today to do some interviews in Miami I thought I'd go ahead and post this myself. Thanks Phillip!

The reason why I call this LATE FALL, is that Winter's true appearance had not come yet the first week in December, yet the skiers and snowboarders were out en masse, doing their thing on the snow. From the images, however, it looked like plenty enough for most people, but for the Aspen/Snowmass crowd, it was not enough.

" We hope every day that more will come!" said one skier to me, as he geared up to spend the day on Aspen mountain. This gentleman had gray hair, and a profoundly wizened face, as if he had spent all of his life outdoors. " Last year was great, but this year? Look!" He pointed up to the dazzling white mountain." Hardly anything! But there's enough for me, even though it is December 2ond."

This is the third time I have been to Aspen, and I am still trying to figure out the exceptional nature of this town, deeply embedded in the Rocky mountains, 5 hours by car or bus from Denver on a good day, and on the plane, about an hour, often bumpy. This time, on the plane from Denver to Aspen, were some rowdy Russian men, who I THINK, even at 10:15AM, had started carousing early -- well before the plane took off. None spoke English except a few basic words, but the one phrase one of them could say, and DID, after each deep prop plane bump, was " It's A BEAUTIFUL DAY!" I began thinking this is probably the feeling that most people have when they come to this place in the mountains.

During my stay, I saw much newness in the old Snowmass and Aspen -- new plans for wholly owned residences, many of which had already been sold, as well as new fractional residences in downtown Aspen. Both places, one close to the other, have such exceptional access to the slopes, that even with the small amount of snow, every day must be enticingly beautiful -- especially one to those who have sojourned from other non-snowy climes, to find solace or company on the snow, no matter how thin it is.

On the day I left, a heavy storm blew in. Flights were cancelled, and I had the disquieting experience of taking a bus, during a severe snowstorm, from Aspen to Denver. The heavy blowing snow did not deter the inveterate driver at all, and we came through it quite well. Before I flew back to Tucson last night, I received a Twitter from The Town Of Aspen: " Our Prayers Were Answered,. If We Could Just have a Few More Days Like This!"

I could hear those boisterous Russians laughing in the background.

Well, coming to New York at this time, when the economy has taken a terrible downturn, the mood of the city was somber. Wall Street was right down the road, and the sense of sobriety was palpable. i had heard in a bar from a trader that media and the politicians had hidden the terrible truth from those who read and watch TV: that the economy was in much worse shape that had been initially reported, and the bottom was not in sight. Cab drivers told me the same thing. And yet, walking up 5th, as I had done for many years, in a light Spring coat, no hat, no earmuffs, I was still enchanted by the ambiance of the pre-Holiday season. Twinkling lights in the windows, a taste of snow in the air, both bringing me to realize my enchantment was caused by my sense of urban familiarity. Traveling alone as I always do, I came to understand the city was my family, the landmarks -- The Empire State Building, the ice rink at Rockefeller Center, Tiffany's, all held personal memories that were my own personal landmarks, still existing, with deep personal gratitude.

The thing that separates Vail from other places I have visited in Colorado, is its intimate village like atmosphere. I grew up in a village, and as I have grown older, miss the intimacy, and accessibility of neighbors, wagging dogs, and needed services. Park City used to be like this, evidently -- one of my colleagues said that when he came to live there in 1972, there were more dogs than people. Vail has a feel like this -- there are dogs, mostly on leash, or sitting in windows or on storefront steps. One of my associates bent down to pet a dog sitting in front of a store, and when she stopped petting the dog, the dog walked right along with us for a few minutes. There was, also, a pleasant briskness in the air, as it is 8200 feet high -- so for those of us Valley-Floor-Of-The-Rockies people, we have to walk more slowly -- and walking and talking BOTH can be a drain and a strain.

The challenge of the Vail city fathers must be to keep this sense of closeness without claustrophobia, of village without vitriol, while building the new resorts. It can be done, as it has been done successfully in other areas of the country and the world. People come here to ski, snowboard, hike and, in general, live a life uncomplicated with urban issues. Vail has a quiet magic, and especially during the season before the first snow. As i walk up Bridge street, I see the white Aspen trees, with a few yellow leaves, the deep black green of stands of aromatic Evergreen, fading flowers, the anticipatory quiet of a late October evening --all seem carry the sense of expectation of the first frost, the Thanksgiving moon, the first flakes of new snow, harbingers of the high season, the last best gift of the dying year.

Charleston, Seabrook Island, Poplar Bluff, St Thomas (again), a helicopter excursion around the near and far islands of the Carribbean, Miami, Big Sky, Montana, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Newport Beach, back to San Francisco, Eureka, California, the Lost Coast of Northern California, Mendocino, back to San Francisco and within a foreseeable time, back to Tucson finally after being 15 months away from home base… this has been quite an expedition.

I last blogged in January of this year in Logan, Utah and somewhere between then and now, I have really been untethered more than I have ever been before. I have not traveled abroad this year, thus far. I have written, spoken at the IMN Conference in Miami Beach, written more marketing copy, ad copy, articles for internet, and traveled within the United States. This year, thus far, has been life-changing, as I learned what is felt like to live, basically, out of my suitcase for a very long time! What did being away so long teach me? First of all, it is expensive, second, the mail gets all screwed up, so you have to pay a lot of bills forward, third, it is disorganizing you have to become truly organized, learning the absolute need for one of the great inventions of all time, the Zip-Loc bag, fourth, as I have grown older and somewhat wiser this year, a need for a home base, where all your junk is in the same place. Even if you don't know where it all is exactly, you still know it is around here somewhere; an oddly reassuring feeling. I know I have other lessons I have learned, but those are the main four.

I am putting some images on the site of a few places that I really enjoyed. The Stanford Inn, Mendocino, the helicopter trip over St. Thomas, and the dazzling moonrise in San Francisco.

Tired, but happy, I am ready to return to the high Sonoran plateau of Tucson, where the air is easy to breathe, and lemons can still be picked from the trees through the winter. No Utah winters, anymore...