So Rita and I decided that the most subversive, revolutionary thing I could do was to show up for my life and not be ashamed.

All parents are an embarrassment to their kids. Often grandparents are the relief. Kids don't have to resist you.

I cry intermittently, like a summer rain. I don't feel racked by the crying; in fact, it hydrates me. Then rage wells up in me, and I want to take a crowbar to all the cars in the neighborhood.

I am learning slowly to bring my crazy pinball-machine mind back to this place.

I've heard people say that God is the gift of desperation, and there's a lot to be said for having really reached a bottom where you've run out of any more good ideas or plans for everybody else's behavior; or how to save and fix and rescue; or just get out of a huge mess, possibly of your own creation.

Again and again I tell God I need help, and God says, 'Well, isn't that fabulous? Because I need help too. So you go get that old woman over there some water, and I'll figure out what we're going to do about your stuff.

I naturally prefer the company of people who hold grudges, as long as they are not held against me.