I wonder about myself sometimes. Today, the kids were upstairs watching TV while I was downstairs working. I had to go to the bathroom, so went to do my thing but purposely left the bathroom door open. My logic here was that if the kids needed me in an emergency I would be readily available to them.

But I got to thinking, okay, suppose the unthinkable happens and an intruder burst into our home. Would I then leap from the toilet to rescue my children? The sight and smell of me, at that point, would surely be enough to scare anyone away!

Take note TV chefs, I can cook a meal with not a single person clapping.

One of the moms at my girls’ dance studio walked in with newly dyed black hair the other day and it dawned on me that I have no idea what to call a person with black hair. I mean, we have “blonde, brunette, redhead” but what about those of us with black hair? We can’t seriously be blackheads, so what are we? Help me out with this one please people!

I base most of my fashion taste on what doesn’t itch.

- Gilda Radner

You know me. I’m not usually sappy or sentimental. (Well, maybe I am, but I don’t usually express it.) But I must admit, most days of my life I feel so blessed by the friendships I have it borders on barfy. I feel so good and so happy with my life that I almost feel guilty. I have such incredible friends - generous, kind, caring, supportive, witty, sarcastic (this is a big plus for me), food lovers (this is an even bigger plus!). I could go on and on.

So I just wanted to say thanks gang - you know who you are. You rock.

I recently had some x-rays taken of my teeth on my latest visit to the dentist.  You know, where they stick that giant cardboard thing in your mouth, cover your body from the neck down in a giant lead bib, and the dental hygienist physically leaves the room while she zaps you?  It got me to thinking.  Why is it that they don’t protect your head (okay, I’m thinking specifically your brain here) in any way?  They are willing to protect practically your entire body, the hygienist heads for the hills, but they don’t protect your brain!  I don’t get it.

I don’t do mornings and they don’t do me. I think this is a trait I have passed along to my daughter (more commonly known as the cave dweller). Take this morning for instance - the usual morning routine - my husband (bless his soul he IS a morning person) dresses my daughter while she is still asleep, carries her downstairs and puts her in the front room (which is dark - cave dwellers don’t appreciate light at this time of day!). If he is lucky, he can make it downstairs with her on his back with only a minimum amount of verbal abuse being hurled at him (we tell our friends she has Tourette’s). She sleeps there until it’s time to leave for school. I think she gains consciousness in the car on the way to school, during which time she must eat her breakfast, brush her hair, and argue with her sister (the latter being the most important).

By the time we walk into her classroom, the cave dweller has been replaced by a sweet, sunny, irrepressibly charming young girl … until tomorrow morning …