No, I didn't go river rafting or rock climbing or skeet shooting. My sense of accomplishment came from single-handedly getting a sitter.

Yes, I found a responsible, experienced, college sophomore, who didn't have a date on Saturday night. Unfortunately, her boyfriend comes back from National Guard duty next week; but we had her for Saturday night.

Post-its - what would I do without post-its? The older I get, the more I need them. Although they come in a variety of shapes, sizes and colors, the basic, yellow square covers everything for me - literally.

Post-its are on the refrigerator, of course; but they can also be found on my computer, the TV, my bathroom mirror, my husband's calendar and the front door - inside and outside.

Sports is what summer means to men. To women it means what am I going to do with the kids all summer and what bathing suit will make me look thin?

A generation or so ago summer meant women covered their dark furniture with light-colored slipcovers. I wouldn't bother. My furniture gets covered with ice cream drips.

According to some psychologist without enough serious research to do, the popularity of America's favorite treat is due to the need of adult Americans to recapture their childhoods.

I'm determined to be a good sport. I just can't decide at what sport I'd be good.

Although my parents were golfers, I didn't inherit their talent. Addressing the ball, shifting my weight when I swung the club, keeping my head down - basically, I couldn't keep my eye on the ball.

My grandmother kept me on horseback every summer - until a bee stung my horse.

I used to think naps were a luxury - one I could afford, but wouldn't make me fat. Latinos take siestas and Japanese have inemuri; but my Puritan heritage made me feel guilty about napping because I wasn't accomplishing anything.

Well, yes I was. A recent newspaper article reported that naps help fight cardiovascular disease. They allow us to recharge our batteries.

Home-cooked meals - pork chops, pot roast and roast chicken - used to be the norm. Now they're the exception. A family that can co-ordinate schedules to have dinner together has become food for thought.

Thoughts about food run the gamut from necessities to no-no's - from vitamins and minerals to Vic's pizza and Ming's chow mein - to take-out.

My conscience won't go on vacation. I can slather it with sunscreen and lay it in the sun, I can buy it maps and take it sightseeing, I can dress it up and take it out for a romantic dinner - but it refuses to go on vacation.

While I'm trying to have fun, my conscience continually lectures me. Although I try to explain that a vacation is time to do and eat things you don't at home, it won't listen.

Brunch must have been invented by a female. When we lived on the East Coast, brunch was a late, Sunday breakfast at home. It was an edible excuse for me to sleep more and cook less.

On the West Coast brunch is big business. On the West Coast you don't have bunch, you DO brunch. On the West Coast you do brunch on Saturday or Sunday.

There are two kinds of brunch - menu and buffet.

Who knew wines in screw-top bottles would become acceptable to knowledgeable wine drinkers? These are the same people who had to adjust to plastic corks. No wonder they drink.

My husband is a knowledgeable wine drinker. He knows what years produced good grapes and what wineries are best for which wines. I don't. If I like a like a wine, I'll buy it again.

How do you know when you're grown up? Is it when people stop asking you what you want to be? One of the first things I wanted to be was an only child - no hand-me-down's, no sharing, no comparing, no competition.Then I realized if I didn't have siblings, I wouldn't have anyone to share the blame.

From the age of ten I wanted to be a writer.