Giddy-up!

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 myself.

Manuscript to editor before Thanksgiving!

I have taken a leave of absence from my work at the art museum, I have cleared my calendar of most social events and am planning nothing for the next several months except write, eat, sleep.

To some, this may seem treacherous or boring or downright miserable, but for me I embrace it with eagerness and pure joy. I’m doing what I love to do non-stop for the next few months.

Hopefully, you’ll stay with me and will be ready to read—and hopefully talk about—book number four.

It’s a book about my home, turning one-hundred next year, and me living in this home for a decade. The story is about some very sad things that happened there, some very silly things that happened there and some very, very interesting things that are still happening within this very sacred (at least to me) space. Also, some wildly fascinating characters who come and go from the house.

I am now entering my “book sweet” time writing about a place called 215. (working title)

PS Here’s a sneak peek from:

215

an Address Shaped by Loss—and Love

Excerpt

“The Barnes Museum, located in the museum area of Philadelphia, home of the Rocky steps, was our first stop on a road trip to Robert’s granddaughter, Anna’s wedding in New Jersey. We arrived early and left late taking in as much of the museum’s extraordinary collection celebrated for its Impressionist, Post-Impressionist, and early modern European painting punctuated throughout with Dr. Barnes’ wrought-iron collection.

We sneaked peeks at Cezanne’s bathers and card players and Picasso’s acrobat and harlequin over and over and over before and after a much-needed break—mainly for our backs—found us at lunch.

My first inspiration came as we settled at a table near the center of the room. The stunning forty-something woman at the next table glowed in golden monochromatic expensive clothes—a design element I would take home from Philadelphia to my own closet. Not the expensive fabrics, but the ease with which she had styled the beautiful blend of colors. Soft and layered and lovely.

When she smiled, I asked, “What is the yummy dessert you’re enjoying please?” noting it was the exact colors of her long hair and her ensemble—maple, chestnut, ochre and ambers.

“A butterscotch budino. Don’t you just love it?”

Not wanting to appear unsophisticated, I stole a quick glance at the garden outside and then murmured, “So much.”

First thing back in the rental car, I googled (pre-AI) to learn budino is an Italian word that means pudding, but the concept of pudding goes back to Medieval times in England. In those days, puddings were savory, often served with meats. The Italians chose the sweet path replacing the proteins with nuts and cookies.

The dessert showed up first in the US in 1963 when it was featured in an event hosted by the Wine and Food Society of San Fernando Valley. Foreign courses, including the budino Maltais, were featured. The budino came from Malta, just off the southern coast of Italy.

A long way from Texas . . .”

Hope you have a delightful end to the summer and colorful days of autumn. I'll see you just in time for turkey y'all!