In Every Woman's Wardrobe, There Are Certain

They Say It's Not The Snoring Itself But Those Anxiety-packed Moments In Between Snorts. It's The Waiting For The Nasal Passages Of The Person Lying Beside You To Strike Again. And Strike It Always Does. In The Dark, Almost Against Your Will, You Produce That Special Glare Reserved For People Who Cannot Control Their Own Behaviour.

I Never Asked My Mother Where Babies Came From But I Remember Clearly The Day She Volunteered The Information....my Mother Called Me To Set The Table For Dinner. She Sat Me Down In The Kitchen, And Under The Classic Caveat Of 'loving Each Other Very, Very Much,' Explained That When A Man And A Woman Hug Tightly, The Man Plants A Seed In The Woman. The Seed Grows Into A Baby. Then She Sent Me To The Pantry To Get Placemats. As A Direct Result Of This Conversation, I Wouldn't Hug My Father For Two Months.

Picture It In Your Mind's Nostril: You Get In A Cab In Time To Catch Twin Thugs Named Vomit And Cologne Assaulting A Defenseless Pine-tree Air Freshener.

For Me, Titles Are Either A Natural Two-second Experience Or Stressful Enough To Give You An Ulcer. If They Don't Pop Out Perfect On The First Try, They Can Be Really Hard To Repair. Or, Worse, If The Author Thinks They Pop Out Perfect, But The Publishing House Does Not Agree, It's Difficult To Shift Gears. And Then? Then You Go Insane.

At The End Of Each Year, I Sit On The Floor And Go Page By Page Through The Old Calendar, Inking Annual Events Into The New One, All The While Watching My Year In 'dinner Withs' Skate By. When I'm Done, I Save The Old Calendar In The Box Of The New One And Put It With The Others On A Shelf.