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The weekend delivery people are getting lax. My Sunday Times didn't arrive until 6:30 or so. So, instead of settling down to a long read, I headed downstairs, with peanuts, banana and Red Hot Blues to put a coat of water-based poly on the trim I'm finally finishing for the bathroom window. After sanding, I vacuumed the workbench -- well the easily accessible visible areas anyway -- and, after great effort, pried open the poly, and put on the first coat. By the time I'd wandered back upstairs, the paper had arrived.

The Tables Turn for Dilbert’s Creator- More

By BRAD STONE

THIS is yet another story about a clueless but obtrusive boss — the kind of meddlesome manager you might laugh at in the panels of “Dilbert,” the daily comic strip.

36 Hours in Marrakesh, Morocco - More
By SETH SHERWOOD

EVERY generation, Westerners find new reasons to go gaga for Marrakesh. For Edith Wharton and Winston Churchill, the draw was medieval Islamic architecture and rugged mountainous landscapes. For the globetrotting hippies of the woozy “Marrakesh Express” days, the appeal lay in “charming cobras” and “blowing smoke rings,” to quote Crosby, Stills and Nash. These days, with Marrakesh emerging as the center of North Africa’s style and night life, everyone from Julia Roberts to Naomi Campbell has threaded through its labyrinthine old lanes in search of celebrity chefs, opulent spas and designer boutiques. Indeed, for many of Europe’s jet set playgrounds — Ibiza discos, Riviera beach clubs, Paris hotels — a Marrakesh outpost is now de rigueur.

In Portugal, a New Stop on the Global Wine Trail - More
By GISELA WILLIAMS

ON a crisp fall evening a clutch of bigwig museum directors were barefoot and treading grapes in an old stone vat in the Douro, Portugal’s port wine region. They included João Fernandes, the director of the prestigious Serralves Museum in Oporto, and Vicente Todoli, the director of Tate Modern.

“If you told me just a few hours ago I would have been doing this,” Mr. Todoli said, cheerfully stomping away, “I would not have believed you!” He’s not the only one. Not long ago, few would have imagined that the Douro (pronounced DOH-roo) would be on the lips of international art mavens and tastemakers. A semi-remote area in northeastern Portugal with small, winding roads that wrap around steeply terraced vineyards, the Douro River Valley was better known as a sleepy getaway for a stiff British crowd of a certain age who quietly toured the region’s quintas, or port wine estates.

These days, however, this rugged valley is on the edge of becoming a fashionable wine trail. There are more than a few signs: a group of renegade winemakers who called themselves the Douro Boys; new luxury hotels with 1,000-euro-a-night suites; restaurants with Michelin-starred chefs; and new wineries designed by famous architects.

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