My friend Scott sent this article from the New York Times about an order of Monks who live in the mountains in France. They alone hold the recipe to a type of liquor, Chartreuse.

I vacillate between being a voracious reader and then not reading at all. But that doesn't stop the compulsion to buy many books and stack them in piles next to my bed, on the table next to my bed, and on the floor next to the full bookshelf.

I have written over 30 of these emails and none of them have been sent out without a typo. I notoriously type very fast and loud. My brain working at a different speed than my fingers. The letters E, A, and N on my keyboard are so worn they are just white blurs on black keys.

My polling place is a church in Wilmette. I was inspired that even the church has a sense of humor about masks. Mask wearing is here to stay. Have you experienced the panic when you pull into the grocery store parking lot and realize you don't have one?

Tomorrow. I am offering a FREE 60 min class from 2-3p CST for anybody who might need to slow down, take deep breaths, and move their bodies.

The hubs and I are on a little road trip. I grew up on road trips. Without a map, my mother never gets lost and she never turns around. She taught me the value of the journey.

I have dreams that I am losing all my teeth. Deep in the cavern of sleep, I slide my tongue all around my mouth checking for the loose ones.

I was in Whole Foods and was positive I spotted my friend Amy at the other check out. So I am waving my hand and yelling "Hey Amy" to this woman who is just looking to me and not reacting. Of course I can only see her eyes and not her face. I walk closer and realize it is not Amy. She had the same hair and height, I swore it was her. With masks on it is hard to tell.