Horseshoes, clovers, rabbits feet.

Next week, I'm having surgery, the start of months-long treatment for a wee spot of bother. (Let's think like that, shall we? It's just a blip.) As I was leaving a pre-op appointment yesterday, I decided to stop and buy a couple of lottery tickets. Very unlike me, as my friends know. But why not? When something is caught early, you feel lucky. As the clerk handed me my change, he said, "Good luck with everything." As if he knew. When my eyes met his, he saw the first watery veil of my tears. It's always a good idea to wish people luck. I accept. Thank you. And the same to you and yours.

Yum.

Yesterday, this is what I devoured for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Tempted to call it a "perfect light summer read" -- but that's doing it a disservice. It's a "fall in love with these characters and not let them go" kind of read.

Vocabulary.

I keep a list of words I love, and want to use in my writing. In the last few years, I've used frisson and anodyne. Lacunae is still up for grabs. Yesterday I used an old favorite, akimbo. And I remembered the thrill of discovering it for the first time, in a Nancy Drew mystery, about a day after learning another exciting word: Coupe. And I wonder, how old are you when a new word becomes a chore, and not a thrill? Is it 11? 12? I see my daughters groan when I say, "Look it up." But there is an age at which you do not groan. There is an age at which you hold it tight like a shiny coin, wondering when you'll get the chance to spend it.

How to play solitaire.

I love being the first person up. I hate being the last person up. One is alone and the other lonely. Waiting for the moon to make a sound. Listening for a teenager's midnight tiptoe. Holding my breath as the ambulance flashes its candy lights across the street. My entire life, I've found myself awake while other people sleep. And that must be why the daydreams come. The writer's gift, notions as compensation.