Oh, Sharon, Julie, Sara, Holly, Leah, Marissa. Do we need another version of “The View”?  Ladies, let’s end this, before the men join in and decide there’s not enough Rushes, Regises or Dr. Phils.

“I bought my ex-husband Horny Goat Weed. Then he started dating goats.” –words of wisdom from my ex-roommate, Erika. I would like to thank her for all the laughs, for putting up with my Yankee antics in our cramped South campus dorm room in Chapel Hill, and for NOT being one of those North campus girls, who faithfully set their hair in hot rollers before each 8 a.m. class. Love those Southern belles!

Driving home today, I discovered the kids’ play tunnel floating down the street. Suddenly, I had the perfect alibi—for the mysterious disappearance of the giant inflatable snowman Doug insists on displaying on our front lawn every Christmas. Can I hear it for an F5 tornado sometime between Thanksgiving and New Year’s?

Wonders how many cumulative hours I’ve spent trying to remember whose number I just dialed; staring inside closets, drawers, and cabinets asking myself what I was looking for; and wondering if I should pull over, not because I forgot the directions, but the destination. Certainly it’s been well over 40 hours, in which span of time I could have become a certified private airplane pilot. Who wants to board that ride?