"Thank you." Something we learned, or should have learned, at a tender age. When I was younger, I thought a smile was a good substitute for uttering the words. I had to have a few people -- grandmas, boyfriends -- show me the error of my ways.

But let's face it: sometimes, the words just aren't enough. It never ceases to amaze me how many people consider special kindnesses their just due. The number of people who have gone out on a limb for me during my life are few. I am so grateful for the opportunities I have been given by that select cadre. Consequently, I have always tried to be sensitive to those who need a little light to shine in their lives.

Still, it's a hard part of "growing up" -- though I will be 40 this year -- that our kindnesses aren't always returned or even appreciated, for that matter. It's supposed to be, "you reap what you sow," but every farmer knows that there will be some seeds that never even germinate. And that's just how it is.

Sometimes, you gotta get back to basics. You gotta start being nice...to yourself. There have been occasions when I thought, "If you put half as much effort into yourself as you do for [fill in the blank yourself], you'd be a millionaire! You'd be queen of the world!" At the very least, it's probably important to be at least as much a friend to yourself as you would with anyone else.

In the next couple of weeks, I will be revving up to get the next issue out. I am also going to do my best to not leave myself out of the picture. Here on the blog, I will be putting up some of my fun *ME*-time things.

Tonight, I was cooking. I don't like doing anything every day (well, almost). But as something special, I find it a creative, sensual outlet. As I was snip-snip-snipping fresh dill and crunching up big rocks of fancy Portugese sea salt, I tasted the dressing. I made it to please me, and it was wonderful.