All I really wanted to do was cuddle back under the blankets, maybe with a certain stuffed toy penguin I knew. Yeah, hiding sounded good.

Theresa strode over to us in a swish of cloth. "Enough of this, animator. He can't do it, so he pays the price. Either leave now, or join us at our...feast." Are you having rare Who-roast-beast?" I asked. What are you talking about?" It's from Dr. Seuss, How the Grinch Stole Christmas. You know the part, 'And they'd Feast! Feast! Feast! Feast! Feast! They would feast on Who-pudding and rare Who-roast-beast.'" You are crazy." So I've been told.

If you keep a gun in your purse, you get killed, because no woman can find anything in her purse in under twelve minutes. It's a rule.

I didn't want to pick at Micah and me until we unraveled. I wanted to leave it alone and enjoy it. I just didn't know how to do that.

I know the universe has a sense of irony, and sometimes you get reminded just how sadistic that can be.

Who would have ever thought I'd be afraid of a zombie, any kind of zombie? Nicely ironic that.

My boyfriends are all more romantic than I am, and so are my lovers.