The Term 'working Mother' Is Redundant.

I've Never Vied For Power In The Family Before. Pointing A Box At The Garage Door And Saying "open!" Was Never A Big Deal, But Holding That Television Tuner And Realizing I Alone Control What Is Flashed On The Screen Brings Out The Iacocca In Me.

It Seemed Rather Incongruous That In A Society Of Super Sophisticated Communication, We Often Suffer From A Shortage Of Listeners.

No One Diets On Thanksgiving.

I Have A Hat. It Is Graceful And Feminine And Give Me A Certain Dignity, As If I Were Attending A State Funeral Or Something. Someday I May Get Up Enough Courage To Wear It, Instead Of Carrying It.

The Bad Times I Can Handle. It's The Good Times That Drive Me Crazy. When Is The Other Shoe Going Going To Drop?