My first book has been on the shelves since January 15 and so far the response has been wonderful. She Sheds: A Room of Your Own is now available on Amazon and at fine bookstores everywhere. She Sheds is all about women who are building, decorating and enjoying small structures in the back yard. Whether they are gardeners, writers, artists or dreamers, she shed owners create the perfect getaway that is all theirs. The book has dozens of examples of she sheds in various styles. I also built one for my sister-in-law and describe the experience in Chapter 7. It’s been reviewed in Architectural Digest, Houzz, US News & World Report, realtor.com, Parents, Costco Connection and dozens of metro newspapers around the U.S. I appeared on Canada’s Breakfast TV and will be on PBS’ Central Texas Gardener in June.

The food business is notoriously hard to crack, but entrepreneurs are finding a lucrative niche in artisanal food.

When asked by msn about what I considered “hot” areas of opportunity I began to realize just how much was going on. It’s very exciting to open up my Google Reader and mailbox every day to see the new ways people are reshaping what we eat. Mostly for the good. Check out Rieva Lesonsky’s report on Artisanal Entrepreneurs here.

There’s not a lot new that can be said about this summer’s magnificent Olympic Games in London. But I’ll say one thing–no one can watch Missy, or Michael, or Gabrielle, or Bolt and resist the urge to MOVE. Move their bodies, break a sweat.

Evidence for this fact flowed past me this weekend as I attempted to run at least a mile longer than my normal course. As I ran along PCH, the number of fellow joggers as well as cyclists and walkers was high–higher than normal, in my view.

More than two billion people watched the Olympics this past weekend, according to the Guardian. My guess is that at least one quarter of that audience exerted itself just a little bit more than normal after turning off the TV or closing their ipad. Who could not want to capture just a drop of the profound pleasure that comes from making our own heart pound harder, to go faster and farther than we had the last time?

I ran a mile longer. As I ran, my thoughts were upon all of those people in London who for years have dedicated most of their waking hours to getting better, faster, stronger. And I realized, there is no better argument for annual Olympic Games than if only to inspire or shame us to get off our butts and work our bodies. Those U.S. Olympic champions belong to even those of us who breathe hard after climbing the stairs, not just the lean, workout-obsessed colleague we might envy. They do not represent athletic America–they represent all of America. And as our representatives, they should expect us to run the race right along with them.

Usually I reserve wearing perfume for when I will be with others. Today, I chose to wear perfume alone. Just for myself. I chose my precious bottle of Sonia Rykiel’s Belle en Rykiel. There are about 6 drops left. I bought it in Paris in 2006 so I guess it’s time to go back for another bottle.

Now I smell good.

Merci, Sonia.

This is not going to be easy to write. Not because it’s a complicated story, but because I don’t think words can convey the impact a compliment can have. From a stranger. Paid to me.

So there I was, minding my own business, in the parking lot at Fashion Island. I had just exchanged a dress I received for Mother’s Day and pulled my iPhone out to post something on Instagram. This cute photo of a kitten in a pet store window:

I heard a male voice saying “excuse me” and I looked up, startled.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.

He was a very good-looking man in his late 20s or early 30s, wearing blue doctor’s scrubs. He had a really nice smile, dark skin and dark curly hair. I thought he was going to ask me for directions to a particular store in the mall and I waited, smiling back expectantly.

“I just had to tell you”–he hesitated–”I just had to tell you how absolutely gorgeous you look.”

He repeated himself, probably because my face registered so much shock at a purely spontaneous, unmotivated compliment like that, I must have appeared to have lost my mind.

“You look gorgeous.”

Finally discovering I still had a voice, I smiled widely and said, “Well, thank you, you totally made my day.”

He turned to his car and said, “I just had to blurt that out.”

I got in my car, he got in his and that was that.

As I drove home, I was trying to analyze why this offhand compliment from a stranger affected me so much. Could it possibly be because I had not received any comment like that from a reasonably attractive, sane, non-panhandler type of guy in….well….maybe 10 years? maybe 15?

Could it be that although I try very hard to look my best at all times, I don’t think that I am very pretty?

Could it be that as I face a big birthday milestone in a week, I found this casual encounter to be almost divinely ordered? That God took a moment for a small, trivial bit of conversation between two people and gave it a soul-changing importance?

I’m trying very hard not to make more of this than it is. A compliment from a stranger.

I just want to thank that guy, whoever he is, and hope that one day when he is a bit older, with kids and a mortgage and trying to look his best, that he will be blessed by a compliment from a stranger. And I hope that I can carry this feeling of joy and pay it forward by noting beauty in others when they need to hear it most.