I Am Ninety. Or Ninety-three. One Or

They Grew Fat And Happy--the Horses, Not The Children, Or Marlena For That Matter.

Dear God. Not Only Am I Unemployed And Homeless, But I Also Have A Pregnant Woman, Bereaved Dog, Elephant, And Eleven Horses To Take Care Of.

It's As Though I've Been Sleepwalking And Suddenly Woken To Find Myself Here

Age Is A Terrible Thief. Just When You're Getting The Hang Of Life, It Knocks Your Legs Out From Under You And Stoops Your Back. It Makes You Ache And Muddies Your Head And Silently Spreads Cancer Throughout Your Spouse.

Honey, I Plan To Marry You The Moment The Ink Is Dry On That Death Certificate.