At the quilt show, Sara was getting around on a motorized cart. She was garbed as usual in a simple dress of solid color fabric, dark hose, black lace-up shoes, and a small, sheer-fabric bonnet, or kapp.

After bending down for an initial hug, I stood chatting with my friend, both of us catching up on each other's lives. Sara owned and operated a fabric store, and a farm, out in the country for many years, but she's retired now and lives comfortably in town. When I mentioned that my husband Mark and I are thinking about acquiring a dog, she described her two new kittens.

Mozart was rambunctious and overly focused on birds in Sara's feeder outside the picture window, yowling to get out and stalk them, until the arrival of Muffin. Now the two cats cavort happily in the play tube Sara bought for them. Sara tosses catnip toys through a hole in the top of the tube and watches them roll it over the floor for hours at a time.

"I hadn't gotten around to dressing them up until just the other night. My friend Bettina was visiting for the weekend, so I went down in the basement and brought up some doll clothes. Mozart hated it, just hated it, maybe because they were girl doll clothes. But we got some great photos!"

With a hearty laugh and a wave goodbye, Sara pressed a button on her cart and glided smoothly off down the aisle to check out the Art Quilts section of the show.

Today's Fortune Cookie Fortune:
Your friends will delight you.

Excited by the prospect of a few relaxing days at our newly-rennovated cottage on Washington Island, I focused on packing exactly what I’d need. Because I was flying to Green Bay on a stand-by ticket, I could carry only a small piece of luggage, one I wouldn’t have to check. If I got bumped, my bag might not, and a cruel fate could befall my possessions.

Our little home on Washington Island is an inspiring place to live and breath. The grandeur of Lake Michigan is right outside our door, an ever-changing, always beautiful natural element. On sunny days, light streams through the big windows, bouncing and reflecting on our freshly-plastered walls. Because the the property sits above a shallow cove, impressive, foam-edged breakers roll constantly to shore on days the wind is up.

What would I do with my three days at Sunrise Cottage? Might I feel ready to start the longer work of fiction I plan to write? My laptop would fit in my bag, so any writing projects mundane or magnificent were covered. Would I prefer to sew, sitting at my table on the wide east porch with its nine windows? Just in case, I cut dozens of flannel rectangles in masculine browns, blacks, blues, and tans so I could easily start the Bricks quilt I intend to give this Christmas to a friend.

Concluding my packing late in the day, atop the essentials for my favorite pursuits, I tucked in warm pants, socks, and gloves. Next morning, I’d zip up my bag and go.

Today's Fortune Cookie Fortune:
You will be prepared.

Once on the floor, legs folded in front of me, I looked around the room, enjoying the familiarity of its details: the scroll design of the sheer curtains on the wide windows, the artwork on the walls, and the reassuring presence of my teacher Tia at the front of the class.

As all yoginis know, the goal in practice is to concentrate on one's breath, ridding the mind of distractions. My thoughts wander, though, and that day, as we moved from pose to pose, I considered their names and what each signifies. 

In Bridge, I thought of bridges—how they span divides, enable travel, connect people. In Table, I envisioned tables, spread with meals, spread with paperwork, spread with fabric and thread.

As Tia coached us through our Warriors, I thought of distant battles and their fighters, conflicts more intense and overt than those we face daily in a small American town. My mind returned to my recent trip to Scotland, when my husband Mark and I visited a museum on the Isle of Skye. Posted on one wall was a poem in Gaellic, written in 1411, a pep talk for McDonald clansmen who would be at war next day. Beside the verse, a translation in English was provided.

In my life, living all my years in a peaceful land, I have been on no real battlefield. I have pointed no sword, aimed no gun at fellow man. But courage welled up, expanding my heart, as I read line after ancient line, just as it does each time I stand in Warrior on my yoga mat.

The Incitement to Battle
Harlaw, 1411

by Lachlann Mor MacMhuirich

O Children of Conn, remember
Hardihood in time of battle:
Be watchful, daring,
Be dextrous, winning renown,
Be vigorous, pre-eminent,
Be strong, brave,
Be valiant, triumphant,
Be resolute, fierce,
Be forceful and stand your ground,
Be nimble, valourous,
Be well-equipped, handsomely accoutred,
Be dominant, watchful,
Be fervid, pugnacious,
Be dour, inspiring fear,
Be ready for action, warrior-like,
Be prompt,
Be exceedingly, recklessly daring,
Be prepared, willing,
Be numerous, giving battle,
Be fiery, fully-ready,
Be strong, dealing swift blows,
Be spirited, inflicting great wounds,
Be stout-hearted, martial,
Be venomous, implacable,
Be fearless,
Be swift, performing great deeds,
Be glorious, nobly powerful,
Be rapid in movement, very quick,
Be valiant, princely,
Be acting, exceedingly bold,
Be ready, fresh and comely,
Be king-like,
Be eager, be successful,
Be unflurried, striking excellent blows,
Be compact in your ranks, elated,
Be vigorous, nimble-footed,
In winning the battle against your enemies.
O Children of Conn of the Hundred Battles.
Now is the time for you to win recognition,
O raging whelps,
O sturdy heroes,
O most sprightly lions,
O battle-loving warriors,
O brave, heroic firebrands,
The Children of Conn of the Hundred Battles,
O Children of Conn, remember
Hardihood in time of battle.

Today's Fortune Cookie Fortune:
You will admire the Scottish.

Mary describes art/life in full on her blog PaperGirl, but one aspect of the year involves wearing a single color each month. She started in June with yellow. July was blue, June purple, and today, September 1, she transitioned from purple to orange.

I traveled from Winterset to Chicago Sunday because an examination under aneasthesia was scheduled for Mary Monday at Northwestern Hospital. Apparently, she has a tiny leak in her new internal plumbing system, one that her doctor repaired with, well, glue.

Yesterday afternoon, while Mary was still groggy in her hospital bed, I went on an orange clothing shopping mission on Michigan Avenue. Mary's sister Rebecca made a first foray Sunday, hitting sale racks at Gap, Banana Republic, H & M, and others, returning with fantastic orange shorts, a great scarf, and a flowy maxi dress. I went straight to Macy's at Watertower Place.

Shopping for one color only is an unique experience. Stepping off the escalator, you scan the retail horizon, hyperfocused. The blacks, grays, and deep reds of your entire shopping history are invisible to you. Interestingly, you can cover an entire floor of a huge department store in under ten minutes.

I found a darling tie-dye dress, a peasanty print blouse, and the perfect T-shirt, all at 70% off.

Heading back to the hospital for show-and-tell, I exited to the Magnificent Mile via American Girl Place. Strangely, as I bustled through with my shopping bags, I scanned the racks for tiny, orange doll clothes for a moment or two, then pulled myself together.

Mary is home today, dressed in juicy orange.

Today's Fortune Cookie Fortune:
You will find some bargains.

In planning our trip, Mark set up the air travel; I arranged hotel accommodations and rented a car. We would be making a giant loop through northern Scotland—Glasgow, Edinburgh, Inverness, Isle of Skye, and then back to Glasgow for the flight home.

About to click on a standard transmission (the norm in Europe), mid-size vehicle, I noticed the "luxury" option a few lines down on the Orbitz chart. For not that much more, Hertz would rent us an automatic transmission Mercedez-Benz! Thinking about the hundreds of miles we'd be driving on the right hand side of the road, from the right side seat of the car, I splurged.

As we sped along the M-way from Glasgow to Edinburgh, we developed our new mantra: stay right, look left, stay left, look right. Mark, who drove a right-side-drive standard-shift VW bug in the US his senior year in high school, kept his cool. In the left seat, I navigated us to our Edinburgh hotel, along major thoroughfares that changed street names almost every block.

Over our nine day journey, sorry to say, I declined to learn a new skill. With the ability you'd expect from a former commercial B-757 pilot, Mark negotiated incredibly tight turns in pouring rain enroute Inverness, kept us safely in unbelievably narrow lanes enroute the Isle of Skye, held steady through single-vehicle underpasses on each leg, and did not flinch when meeting Scottish lorries and double-decker tour buses. The Mercedes hummed.

Back in Green Bay, we loaded the luggage into my little red car. Now the designated driver, and using all six forward gears, I brought us home to Winterset. With one suitcase strapped on the arm rest between us, Mark couldn't see much of me. Instead, he gazed out the window at the beautiful shoulders of the standard American highway.

Today's Fortune Cookie Fortune:
You will appreciate the ability of others.

In Inverness, we found Castle Street lined with kiltmakers' workshops and Scottish souvenir shops, strains of "Commin' Through the Rye" beckoning from every open doorway.

Yesterday, my husband Mark and I took a boat tour down the River Ness and onto Loch Ness. During the three hour excursion, we sat at a comfy booth in the cabin playing Scrabble, frequently walking out on deck with our binoculars to enjoy the gorgeous countryside along the Loch and to scan the dark, frigid waters for Nessie (no sign).

I noticed a printed instruction placard on the cabin front wall that seemed to illustrate steps for bagpipe playing. Toward the end of our cruise, taking a closer look, I found the photos were not at all man squeezing his pipes in Highland dress, but a stout lady demonstrating proper use of the boat's life vest.

We decided that, in Scotland, combination life-vest-bagpipes would be perfect. You could inflate your vest by blowing into the pipe. While treading water, you could play a lively air to simultaneously entertain yourself and call for aid. And, should help not arrive, you could go under for the third time, piping yourself out to the final notes of "Auld Lang Syne."

Today's Fortune Cookie Fortune:
You will not try haggis.

Prior to our tour, I thought "Humph, why should taxpayer money foot the bill for a monarch's personal boat?" After learning the history of royal yachts (Britainna is the 83rd in a long line stretching back to 1660), and walking Britannia stem to stern, my attitude changed to nostalgia. The gorgeous ocean vessel is now maintained by the charitable organization Royal Britannia Trust. Lunch in the tearoom was scrumptous.

Displayed on a rear deck was the NATO international radiotelephony spelling alphabet. The alphabet assigns a code word to each letter of the English alphabet so that critical combinations of letters can be pronounced and understood. As a career US Air Force man and then a commercial pilot, Mark has used this alphabet most of his life. He turned his back on the display board and rattled off all 26 code words to me. When he finished, the tourists within earshot applauded politely.

On the drive to Inverness, I practiced over and over until I do them all in order: Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Echo, Foxtrot, Golf, Hotel, India, Juliet, Kilo, Lima, Mike, November, Oscar, Papa, Quebec, Romeo, Sierra, Tango, Uniform, Victor, Whiskey, Xray, Yankee, Zulu.

Today's Fortune Cookie Fortune:
You will have memory problems.

While on vacation in Scotland, I've been reading American chef Julia Child's memoir, My Life in France. I admit the hype about the recently-opened film "Julie & Julia" influenced my selection at Borders in the Philadelphia airport. I was only about twelve when Mastering the Art of French Cooking was published, and I've only seen clips of her PBS show "The French Chef."

So interesting are Julia's reminiscences about discovering France and French food, about finding her passion in cooking, about writing an in-depth, all-encompassing book on a single subject, and about learning to teach classes on television that I dozed little on my flight over the Atlantic.

As someone who also found my passion in working with my hands, who also spent years writing an in-depth how-to book, in my case Quilter's Complete Guide, and who also learned to demonstrate step-by-step techniques to a television camera, I found myself relating to Julia on almost every page.

Julia's love of France, especially Provence, her intelligent, self-effacing manner, and her obvious affection for her husband Paul made me an instant Julia Child fan.

I have only about 40 pages of My Life in France left, and I'm torn between a desire to gobble it up and a desire to wait and savor it later. In a way, I'm seated before a plate of Julia's sole meuniere—satisfied, but saving room for a little mousse chocolat.

Today's Fortune Cookie Fortune:
You will discover a new hero.

If the various tricks had names they're forgotten too, but I could spin my baton from left to right hand, twirl it individually through each finger, toss it up, then turn around and catch it behind me as it came back down. There my baton skills ended and my baton career stopped.

Last evening, in Il Positano, an Italian restaurant just up the street from our B & B here in Edinburgh, Scotland, my husband Mark taught me how to twirl the spaghetti of my spaghetti carbonara with fork against tablespoon to create perfect, bite-sized portions—so easy, so delicious, so not-slurpy.

Today, at one of the scores of kiltmakers along the Royal Mile, I inquired about a custom-made ladies' kilt in my maiden-name tartan, Graham. Whether I'll go for it or not remains to be seen, with the dollar so weak against the pound, but I can see myself striding down a US city street, the wind twirling my Scottish plaid pleats. 

Today's Fortune Cookie Fortune:
You will have fun learning to do something new.

My husband Mark and I are in Edinburgh, Scotland, in place to attend the famous Military Tattoo drum and bagpipe exhibition tomorrow night amid a crowd of 10,000. We've been up and down The Royal Mile, discovered an old monument to Robert Burns in a seemingly abandoned cemetery, and lunched at The Beehive pub near Edinburgh Castle.

Today, while enjoying paintings by Scots and others at the Royal Museum, we took a seat on a tufted velvet sofa in a ground floor gallery to give our legs a short rest. Other tourists were milling about, and Museum guards stood at their posts.

Still a bit jeg-lagged, I felt my eyelids close. Able to sleep deeply while sitting stock-still, I power napped, returning to consciousness after only five minutes or so. "Where am I?" I wondered, casting about until my eyes caught the plaid pants of a burly guard. "Oh, right, Edinburgh."

With pleasure, I recalled a short snooze I enjoyed in front of Sargent's "Madam X" at the Metropolitan Museum of Art a couple of years ago, and another on a beautiful June day sitting at a table in the Tuileries near the Louvre in Paris. Perhaps I should start a checklist of world cities where I'd like to doze impromptu.

I was probably in my 30s when I bought a pair of silvery earrings bearing "New York, Paris, Milan" in artsy script along the sides. My joy was great when I ran across them some years later, having visited, as I hoped I would, each city.

Today's Fortune Cookie Fortune:
You will relax away from home.