I used to spend a lot of time on the ice, some of it upright.
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I believe the pet expert who said 97% of pet owners talk to their pets and the other three percent are liars.
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‘Tis the season to run up our credit card bills and give our loved ones a good head start on their next garage sale.
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Merry Christmas from my washer to yours.
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I don't mean to brag, but I type really fast—way faster than I text. Faster than I think, too, which can be dangerous.
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Thanksgiving is not just about stuffing ourselves. It’s also about getting a day off work. And napping.
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I buy enough Halloween candy that I could give a heaping handful to every trick-or-treater who comes to my door. I don’t, but I could.
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Why are we here? To serve others? To reach our potential? To rake?
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The best thing about reading glasses is that I don’t need them all the time. And the worst thing about reading glasses is that I don’t need them all the time.
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Had Alexander Graham Bell’s first phone been a smartphone, Watson would have been too busy playing Candy Crush to answer the call.
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Story problems take something I’m fond of — stories — and turn them into something I’m not fond of at all: math problems.
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Better for the cool-as-cucumbers crowd to put on more clothes than to have hot-blooded folks going around wearing fewer of them.
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Everyone else in my house is sleeping. Meanwhile, I’m awake writing about sleep, which isn’t nearly as restful.
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I’m not getting older, I’m getting bitter.
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There are actually YouTube videos demonstrating how to put on nylons. That’s too fussy for me. No one needs a YouTube video to help them put on their pants.
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When I was a child, I daydreamed of living alone in a chicken coop in our backyard. Not the one with the chickens in it. No, my chicken coop would be decked out—and clean.
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I think I could be a pretty good criminal because I watch a lot of mystery shows on television.
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When I was growing up, my parents told me to eat my vegetables, and I did—right out of my neighbor’s garden.
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There’s one thing about the Kentucky Derby that fascinates me: the names of the racehorses. I call my cat Kitty, so you can see why I might be intrigued.
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I close my eyes and imagine a sheep jumping over the fence. Then I picture another one and another one until around sheep number 106, I start getting bored and my sheep become increasingly uncooperative.
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