I guess I'm lucky to have been blindsided. I'm lucky to have gotten into fistfights, in a way. I'm lucky I learned how to stop them.

There are so many ebbs and flows in life, but when you're raising small children, your family means everything.

Tall, sandy blonde, with sort of blue eyes, skinny in places, fat in others. An average gal.

Three tomatoes are walking down the street-a poppa tomato, a mamma tomato, and a little baby tomato. Baby tomato starts lagging behind. Poppa tomato gets angry, goes over to the baby tomato, and smooshes him and says, Catch up.

It's one of the things that weirdly I always used to like about my job: that expressing the emotions of a writer or someone creative and breathing empathy and life into a character people can then identify with, that they'd feel less alone.

That's the wonderful thing about drama and writing and fiction: it's this wonderful shared experience that we all have. We can see into each other's lives.

Nobody seemed to have any perspective any longer. Those were low points. But we got through it.