Another of Viorst's volumes of doggedly comic verse about domestic trials and trivia, this time featuring the middle-aged crisis. The titles tell all: ""Beauty Is Only Skin Deep"" (""Surely a man like Paul Newman would want me/ To have a lot of beauty within"") or ""Life Isn't Fair"" (""Some folks get fat drinking Fresca"") or ""Self-Improvement Program"" (""I've bloomed in organic gardening/ And in Dance I have tightened my thighs""). In general this is the sort of compendium abstracted from hair-dryer repartee, arranged in inelegant quip-packs, Totie Fields style, and tailored for instant media-nurtured meddle-class recognitions. But it'll go, like Kool Whip on frozen French toast, it'll go.