Want a drug-free change in perspective? Teach your conceptual know-it-all brain a lesson and learn how to draw.

I finally learned how to, after decades of frustrated longing. Rather, I learned how to draw what I saw, not what I thought I saw. Your brain thinks it knows what a chair looks like, but if you believe it, you will draw crap.

I sprinted through La Guardia and just made the 6 a.m. Boston shuttle. I was panting, uncaffeinated and hungry. So when the flight attendant hurled a brown bag at me, I lunged for it. I was not going to turn down breakfast, even if it was a bagel masquerading as a hockey puck.

If I ever offer to play you at backgammon say no. There will be lots of loud sighs when the dice don't go my way. And it's not just the drama.

When faced with a roll that makes me choose between backgammon bankruptcy or possession by demons, I sit and think. And think. And think some more.

I have Little House on the Prairie fantasies. I want to tend chickens, pickle peaches, or make yoghurt. (I don't).

So one day I decided to grow my own bean sprouts. I bought beans, soaked them overnight, kept them in a dark place, rinsed them twice a day, and voila! they sprouted. I planned my next stir fry.

I ran out of Dr. Bronner's peppermint soap today.

Normally I would have gotten out of the shower. Made puddles. Found another bottle. Then spilled soap everywhere while trying to pry up the foil seal with wet hands. Cursed. Loudly.

When I was nine I decided to cook an herb omelette. By myself.