Peg Bracken, by now, has joined, the parkbench elder stateswomen of stout opinions and tweedy-blithe humor -- Skinner, McGinley, (occasionally Chase and van Horne). What she says is as safe as a Schrafft's martini, how she says it is funny, bright and quotable. She discusses food, including a ""Petunia"" verse or two: ""A fouler mean/I've never seen;/How large a bowl!/How dull the bean!"" She mourns the passing of small town pleasantries; mulls over the gifts of sunrise hours. She chalks up a list of 108 sins. (""11. Bringing a baby to any public performance other than a bagpipe concert....46. Killing anyone... 85. Double parking on Main Street... 106. Putting tomatoes in clam chowder."") There are also bits about money, consumers, middle-age, trips and the familiar skittish eye-batting at the current women's ""liberation"" groups (although Miss Bracken curiously directs her amused concern at the relatively restrained National Organization for Women rather than the younger and rambunctious Women's Liberation Movement). Merriment for matrons.