A long time ago there was in my life a, shall we say, friend. For one of my birthdays, he gave me a card, the front of which said: Love, Laugh, Live. Such simple words. So trite and so cliché that we are tempted to dismiss them outright as sentimental drivel, in this contemptuous world of ours. Believe me, I am, not less than anyone else, not a fan of simplified, sentimental drivel. This particular friend, and others, have come and gone, but for some reason, I saved the birthday card and I find it every time I get the urge to clean out my files. I've forgotten what was written inside, it doesn't matter. For some reason, those three (admittedly trite and cliché and oversimplified) words have stayed with me through whatever life has thrown at me, unconquered by "experience" or the healthy dose of cynicism I've developed living in the big city. I remember them suddenly when my husband smiles at me, they ring in my head when I drink that perfect, crisp glass of champagne or eat that perfect peach, straight from the farmer's market, still warm from the wooden crate that transported it across the sunny fields of California. Life is made up of moments, my friends.