Early in my life I had made a pact with myself. I would never eat anything that moved when I cooked it, excited the dog, or inflated upon impact with my teeth.

After age twelve, birthdays should be as private as hernia surgery.

Someone once threw me a small, brown, hairy kiwi fruit, and I threw a wastebasket over it until it was dead.

I have paid as much as $300 a night to throw up into a sink shaped like a seashell.

One never realizes how different a husband and wife can be until they begin to pack for a trip.

Maybe you know why a child can reject a hot dog with mustard served on a soft bun at home, yet eat six of them two hours later at fifty cents each.

Family life got better and we got our car back - as soon as we put 'I love Mom' on the license plate.