A. "Don't pick it." My Mom told me that, and it applies to any number of situations.
A. A quiet afternoon, a down comforter, a fire in the fireplace, a great book. (Oh, and snacks. Maybe tea and shortbread).
A. Cape Cod, on a perfect sunny July afternoon, paddling my kayak through the salt marsh with my daughters, looking for clams.
A. Meeting one of my literary heroes -- one of the men whose work made me think that I could become a writer, too. He turned out to be a horrible sexist who claimed to never read books by women. I'm still getting over that one.
A. After meeting the horribly sexist literary hero, I think I've given up on wishing for future encounters with famous people.