No one's banging down my door. People see the way I look, and they don't feel threatened, but they should watch out for me. They don't know there's a steel rod that drives me. I get ticked off, and the rage just gets me going. My motor is anger.

I know this sounds stupid, but in some ways, the way I look is a drawback.

For people like me, who have blocked out a chunk of their past, you wonder - if you open that door, if you walk into that room of your memories, what will happen? Will it destroy you or will it make you stronger?

I just can't stand the fact that they're going out on their own - I love having my kids around, and I'm angry at them for going out and becoming independent. I want to tuck them in and drive them to school in the morning, but they just won't let me do that anymore.

The way we look at manufacturing is this: the U.S.'s strategy should be to skate where the puck is going, not where it is.

I have a farm in Vermont; that's my main residence, where I do lots of digging and mowing, and ride tractors - just so you don't get the wrong idea that I'm too girlie!