I LOVE THE TASTE OF: wet salted butter on white toast, fries with salt and garlic mayonnaise, nutmeg in bolognese sauce, cream cheese frosting, Magnolia Bakery’s banana pudding, crusty bread soaked in white wine steamed mussel liquid, crunchy peanut butter smeared on a cold granny smith apple, artichoke heart in drawn lemon butter, milky buffalo mozzarella on toasted buttered challa bread with basil, stone crabs with mustard sauce, crispy duck with hoisen sauce with cold scallion in a warm pancake, chili powder with fresh mint and thick yogurt sauce over chargrilled lamb, tart apples dipped in hot oozy brie, vanilla bean custard bread pudding, peel & eat shrimp with Old Bay Seasoning, clotted cream, Mint Snapple, the tip of a saturated wafer cone from soft-serve vanilla ice cream with sprinkles, Thanksgiving stuffing with pan juice, cake batter, freshly squeezed grapefruit juice, hot apple cider with a cinnamon stick, a complex red wine reduction over whipped mashed potatoes, cilantro, saturated garlic bread with parsley and paprika, crunchy cold cherries, crispy ironed grilled cheese, little neck clams on a bed of wet linguine with a touch of cubed tomato, Serendipity’s peanut butter frozen hot chocolate, plain tart frozen yogurt, The Soup Nazi’s eggplant parmigiana soup, Bao 111’s seabass over cellophane noodles, Cosi’s bread

I LOVE THE SIGHT OF: snowflakes falling in lamplight, a bride dancing with her father, an expectant mother holding the hand of her first born, a French manicure, brown eggs, a whisk coated in wobbly batter, baby folds, Linus’s sleepy face, the Hermes store, a manicured lawn in spring, white lights on trees at night, my hair after a great cut, hayrides full of children with caramel apples on their faces, Young’s Farm in Brookville Long Island, a ski house in Vermont with quilts, wax-stamped sealed envelopes, holiday gifts, stars and check marks next to paragraphs in my writing, the perfect composition right before I click the shudder release button of my camera, previews at the movie theatre, porch swings and pitchers of sweet tea, apple orchards, Christmas trees strung with twinkle lights and funky ornaments, foods wrapped in wax paper, barn doors, splatter painted cards at weekend outdoor fairs, boat-neck navy and white striped shirts with a red scarf and white capri pants, salt wells, a small round crock of sweet butter, cake domes, old-fashioned ice-cream parlors, Madeline drawings, yacht flags, fancy hats, matching friendship bracelets, jewelry that has been engraved to me, a child feeding an elephant peanuts, lines of school children holding hands with their designated buddies, yellow raincoats and ducky shoes, crossing guards, black & white photos of kids playing stickball or playing bare chested with fire hydrant sprinklers, bicycle streamers, the world when I’m in a tire swing or hammock, an envelope with my handwritten name on front, a child who throws bread at the ducks then runs to clutch her mother’s leg and watch, snow angels, metal lunch boxes with handles and thermoses, a new thick In Style Magazine in my mailbox, bikini lines after a day at the beach,

I LOVE THE FEEL OF: cold marble floors in the summer, my legs when they’re clean shaven and coated in silky lotion, cashmere, a freshly made bed with clean sheets, my hair when it’s straight, Linus after a bath with those rose-petal ears, cold sifted flour, coming in from the cold, my feet when they anchor into wet sand at the shore, worn in jeans, a thin teeshirt, peppermint foot cream and shampoo. baby powder, rubber water worms, a worn in baseball mitt,

I LOVE THE SMELL OF: fireplaces burning logs, bubbling apple pie, lemon polished wood, gasoline, tennis balls, rosemary, Linus’s corn chip feet, roasted chicken, hot charcoal, campfires, warm brownies, Christmas pine, wallpaper books, dry cleaning, coffee beans, magic markers, glue, rubber-cement,

I LOVE THE SOUND OF: soft sounds of laundry snapping in the wind, Linus crunching his food, his feet clicking on the hard wood floors, his Woodstock yawn, the voice of an old friend, the voice of a boy I wanted to call, crackling wood, the blades of my camera clicking, thunderstorms, clock towers, crackling bacon, Christmas music, voices of loved ones as they walk in the door, "you look so thin," "boy can you write," "you got the lead," lawn sprinklers, blowing bubbles through a crazy straw in chocolate milk, The Goonies on a rainy afternoon, the Oreo Cookie commercial music, children’s voices in a school yard, a ball striking a wooden bat, a tennis rally, bedtime stories, rain on my window