My idea of 'roughing it' is when you have to have an extension for your electric blanket.

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

When your mother asks, 'Do you want a piece of advice?' it is a mere formality. It doesn't matter if you answer yes or no. You're going to get it anyway.

. . . but mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute - look at it and really see it - live it - and never give it back.

My mother won't admit it, but I've always been a disappointment to her. Deep down inside, she'll never forgive herself for giving birth to a daughter who refuses to launder aluminium foil and use it over again.

Throughout the years I have set up my own rules about eating food: Never eat anything you can't pronounce. Beware of food that is described as, "Some Americans say it tastes like chicken.

When my kids become wild and unruly, I use a nice, safe playpen. When they're finished, I climb out.