My mother had always taught me to write about my feelings instead of sharing really personal things with others, so I spent many evenings writing in my diary, eating everything in the kitchen and waiting for Mr. Wrong to call.
My dog was with me all the time. I talked to my dog. She was my best buddy. I shared all my secrets with her, but I don`t think I every really tried jokes out with the dog.
Mothers send strips to daughters to make a point. Daughters smack strips down on the breakfast table to make a point. My own mom sometimes cuts a strip out and sends it to me to make sure I understand her.
Otherwise, my whole career has just been flinging myself at whatever is most overdue first and letting everything else stack up.
