My cousin gave me this card in 1986. Inside it reads "I've found a way  to enjoy loys of pasta and stay trim."

My cousin gave me this card in 1986.


Does indulgence in our favorite things keep us healthy and wise, if not wealthy? Who knows. But living that theory certainly contributes to contentment. So some of my timeless reliables of favorite things are:


They can’t be too wide (like fettucine), too flat (like linguine), or too short (like penne). No, as a favorite thing, the noodle must be long and stringy and thin and twist like a slimy worm and then they can take on a manifold of ingredients and flavors: cold with sesame sauce and scallions, in a steaming bowl of ramen stocked with miso and pork belly, or slathered with the juice of lemons, garlic and parmesan cheese.  While my pre-diabetes scare did put a damper on eating noodles for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, it did not put a damper on the joy that I get from slurping them up, (albeit these days I try to make them whole grain).


Of course if I am en route to a destination I am thrilled, but prior to the actual departure date, planning the details, finding the hotels, and figuring out the must-sees is a definite mood booster. And once I return the rehashing commences and ergo reliving what I’d seen and where I was, ergo all the recent post on Romania and no doubt more to come). Then about two months later it’s time to start thinking of the next place to go, like Detroit Michigan for a 2 day sojourn in February?  Now how fun will that be?


It doesn’t matter if I’m seeing it, reading about it, writing about it, or dabbling with painting and drawing, it delivers endorphins.


It’s my exercise of choice and my pleasure. I love being submerged in water.

A Martini

Made with Russian Standard vodka and a single olive.

Julie Andrews sang it and John Coltrane played it, but those are a few of my favorite things.