No matter how well I play the game, will I ever have this?

You see, every morning I wake up and place a bet on how my day will proceed.

Will I win?

Lose?

The great authors tell us that New York is a city of infinite possibility. But the flip side of always feeling hopeful–coming this-close to success– is the breeze of despair and failure.   

You smell money in the air up here. Down South (and in the picture at left), you smell languor, marvelous little ions bouncing from the Gulf waters onto the sand and finally in through the screened porch…

Just as I’m nearing the end of my book and recipe edits, my mom sends me this, in a big, beautiful frame:

“Believe in yourself, believe in humanity, believe in the success of your undertakings. Fear nothing and no one. Love your work. Work, hope, trust. Keep in touch with today. Teach yourself to be practical and up-to-date and sensible. You cannot fail.” 

Okay, Mom, I believe in you and my undertakings and true love and a big ol’ country breakfast to get my day started in the cold, hard city. There–life and its essence. Simple.