My Boyfriends' Dogs: The Tales of Adam and Eve and Shirley

I was thinking about the cow thing. About how hanging on to an ex-boyfriend is like chewing your cud until somebody drops a fresh bale of hay in front of you. Or something like that.

It's my personal onion theory. See, it's like we've all got layers on layers, going deep inside, to layer ten, that place where we're spiritual and private. But we don't show those deep layers.

My mother says that falling in love and getting dumped is good for you because it prepares you for the real thing, like it gets you ready for true love and all, but I'm thinking it's more like climbing up he St. Louis Arch and falling off twice. Does he first fall really get you ready for the second?

Mom says good health is like buying an appliance at a garage sale. You do the best you can to make sure it's in good shape and then leave the rest to God.

I'd still be a goofy frog because, guess what, I like being a frog.

Mom said that going back to an ex-boyfriend was like buying your own garage sale junk after the sale's over. Somebody else may think your old stuff is gold, but you know better. It's not golden for you.