Breathe in, breathe out, move on.

I arm myself with punch lines and a big old water gun.

I remember the excruciating school task of writing a three-page term paper. But, oh, that feeling when I was done! I think I drive myself for that feeling of accomplishment.

I got quarters in my loafers trying to fight inflation when it only used to take a cent.

Under the heavens and under the sea there's a friend I don't know, who holds the right key.

Instinct taught me 20 years ago to pace a song or a concert performance. That translates into pacing a story, pleasing a reading audience.

This morning I shot six holes in my freezer. I think I've got cabin fever.