Tomorrow, mis amigos, I’m off to the Club Med in sunny Punta Cana, Dominican Republic. I don’t plan to do any blogging, but I will check in periodically to make sure that Peter G. hasn’t launched a Bolshevik putsch in my absence! I’m looking for a total R&R experience — lots of reading, a little writing (non-blog), some pilates and treadmill work and perhaps some  wind surfing.

Rest assured that rum will be swilled in copious quantities, food consumed — hmmm, huevos rancheros son ricos — and dice games played. (The Bacons and friends are farkle fanatics.) One of the things I love about Club Med, aside from the unlimited booze, is the cosmopolitan crowd. Lots of French and Spanish spoken there. I speak mangled French and managed to pick up a couple hundred words of Spanish from Rosetta Stone over the past month. I can hardly wait to make a fool of myself. (My son has vowed to disown me if I try communicating en espanol. Just try it, muchacho!)

Oh, yeah, one more thing about Club Med: Las mujeras frances no se llevan las camesitas on the beach. That’s probably not grammatical but you catch my drift!

— JAB