It seemed rather incongruous that in a society of super sophisticated communication, we often suffer from a shortage of listeners.

I will never understand children. I never pretended to. I meet mothers all the time who make resolutions to themselves. 'I'm going to ... go out of my way to show them I am interested in them and what they do. I am going to understand my children.' These women end up making rag rugs, using blunt scissors.

You show me a boy who brings a snake home to his mother and I'll show you an orphan.

Mother's words of wisdom: Answer me! Don't talk with food in your mouth!

I have finally mastered what to do with the second tennis ball. Having small hands, I was becoming terribly self-conscious about keeping it in a can in the car while I served the first one. I noted some women tucked the second ball just inside the elastic leg of their tennis panties. I tried, but found the space already occupied by a leg. Now, I simply drop the second ball down my cleavage, giving me a chest that often stuns my opponent throughout an entire set.

The fact that Americans drag around the world by the busloads to glimpse the past probably has something to do with the youth of our country. We revere anything older than George Burns.

If I raised my hand to wipe the hair out of my children's eyes, they'd flinch and call their attorney.