When I was a child I wrote a letter to myself. It said You know open until the year 2000. I had to be a writer. In my letter to myself I asked if I was a writer. I guess I did in a way, in the way that one is always a writer. But that’s about it. Now my prediction is, best years of my life will be the last years of my life. My ’70s. Maybe my 60s but I bet my 70s. I don’t think my multiple sclerosis will kill me. And my husband has lost so much weight, he has added years to his life. Yep, my best years are yet to come! So I don’t say, oh my God I’m already 45! Instead I say, oh my God I’m only 45!