A. Good sense of humor. Terrible sense of direction.
A. Aspire for dessert.
A. Having dinner on the beach with my family on a balmy summer evening. Watching the sun go down and knowing that the next day's headlines will read "World Peace."
A. It's hard to quantify my fears. I don't want any to feel neglected by picking just one as my greatest.
A. Somewhere tropical
A. Michele Obama
A. Henry, stop barking!
A. Not learning a second and third and fourth language
A. I wish I could sing without everyone in the room fleeing
A. Having a child. Sounds cliche, but it's true.
A. My inability to make a decision
A. I'm nice
A. E.B. White
A. My height
A. Tony Soprano
A. Albert Einstein. Please explain. I don't understand.
A. Making documentaries
A. Lounge singer
A. Honesty, humor, intelligence
A. Ice cream
A. I got the idea for My Mom is Trying to Ruin My Life after stopping by my daughter’s school on an unexpectedly warm day, the kind of day that starts with a chill but turns into a scorcher. I walked into the cafeteria where Maddy was eating lunch with her friends. I held up her favorite pink shorts and said, “I thought you might be hot, so I brought you these.” Maddy responded by giving me the look. I’m sure many parents are familiar with the look. It’s the “what are you doing to me” look. It’s the “I can’t believe you’re embarrassing me like this” look. She said, “I’m okay. I don’t need the shorts.” But her look said, “Mom, tell me you’re not really standing there in front of my friends holding up a pair of pink shorts.” I took the shorts home, sat down at my computer and started writing a story about a well-intentioned mother who is a terrible embarrassment to her daughter.