In this disarmingly vulnerable and wickedly hilarious collection of essays, Mary Walsh chronicles her colourful--sometimes difficult, never boring--life, coming to the hopeful conclusion that growing old means finally finding (and loving) yourself In this sharply observed and wryly funny collection of essays on identity, family, and belonging, Mary Walsh takes readers on a rollicking--and sometimes difficult, but never boring--journey through her life. Her subjects range from the heartbreak of growing up next door to her family, to Newfoundland's vibrant and not altogether happy entry into the Canadian confederation, to the behind-the-scenes of her wildly popular CBC shows, including This Hour Has 22 Minutes , to her complicated relationship with her complicated mother, and to her struggles with alcohol, self-doubt, and what it means to connect with those around her. The result is a collection of essays that are deftly comical, vividly rendered, heartachingly vulnerable and, above all, hopeful. In the end, Mary learns the trials and hurdles (some self-inflicted) that she endured in her younger years only make the process of aging all the sweeter. The message she now has is a powerful one: her older years are her best ones yet, because she's finally learned to accept who she is.