...poking a lump of red Jello that jiggles outrageously, like a breast I once knew.

...poking a lump of red Jello that jiggles outrageously, like a breast I once knew.

I strain to hear, but my old ears, for all their obscene hugeness, pick up nothing but snippets.

What else do I have to offer? Nothing happens to me anymore. That’s the reality of getting old, and I guess that’s really the crux of the matter. I’m not ready to be old yet.

I'm truly grateful for my microwave, which allows me to easily clarify butter, steam vegetables, and - when I am really lazy - feed my three kids in less than five minutes.

Keeping up the appearance of having all your marbles is hard work, but important.

I tend not to think about the reading public at all, or the business, when I'm writing.