So, every day all summer and even into October when I take my ridiculously embarrassingly short bike ride on Lobsterville, I scan the grasses for the white egret.

Every year the days before and the days after Rosh Hashonnah and Yom Kippur I get very blue. Nostalgia (which literally means the pain of the past) plays the biggest role in my sadness.

Every year I say the same thing to my husband, “I’d love to take a vacation . . . on Martha’s Vineyard.”

My cat and I gained the same amount of weight this winter. It looks better on her, plus she doesn’t have to think about getting into a bathing suit.

What I am confronted with even before coffee is how much CO2 is released by one gallon of gasoline.

When had I made the switch from being in the moment to recording the moment?