You become about as exciting as your food blender. The kids come in, look you in the eye, and ask if anybody's home.

How come anything you buy will go on sale next week?

A member of the committee slapped a name tag over my left bosom. "What shall we name the other one?" I smiled. She was not amused.

I got to thinking one day about all those women on the Titanic who passed up dessert at dinner that fateful night.

The bad times I can handle. It's the good times that drive me crazy. When is the other shoe going going to drop?

I've always been intrigued with the variety of answers this generation will give their children who ask, "Where did I come from, Mommy?" They will range from "Number 176 vial in Buffalo, New York," to "You were defrosted."

Grandparenthood is one of life's rewards for surviving your own children.