It doesn’t happen often, but every once in a while, you find yourself in a totally different and perhaps a bit strange space. That’s me now. I’m like a horse experiencing “barn sweet,” that moment when it turns back home at the end of a ride anticipating food, comfort and safety. That’s me. At least anticipating comfort as I complete the manuscript of my fourth book. I'm headed home. In “book sweet,” I need to put my blinders on and put my head down. It’s not a race, but I have a goal for...

Eight-year-old Carly, my granddaughter, stood somewhat in awe, somewhat in puzzlement in front of the floor-to-ceiling display cabinet at the end of the room. “You sure do like skeletons, Neeny,” she observed. I do. I do collect skeletons or skulls. I no longer collect jewelry of any kind—I have a guy in my life that likes to do that for me. But recently, I could not resist a tiny skull crafted from coral, the color of ripe peaches. Tisi, the very talented jeweler aat Lost Cities Beads in Old...

I can’t say that it ruins my day, but it definitely frustrates me and affects my overall performance. It’s just a small failure, but not a good way to begin. I have a routine. First checking my emails, then messages, and then I open the New York Times. Methodically, I scroll down reading as little of the national news as possible, skimming the world news, opening a sports piece only if it pertains to one of my teams, save any recipe that sounds appealing—and easy, and finally get to the...