P.G. Wodehouse, Bertie Wooster, & God

by Kevin DeYoung P.G. Wodehouse (1881-1975) is hands down one of the best writers in the English language, ever. He isn’t profound. He isn’t penetrating. His books may not be dissected in lit classes. But his command of vocabulary and syntax is amazing and his humor is, unlikely other humorists, actually very, very funny. There’s nothing like unwinding with a …

The Lorica of Saint Mommy of Sick Children

Yeah. So, we’ve had a stomach virus here for about the past week, and today it culminated in one of the most craptastic days in my three year career so far as a mother. Bad things have been happening. Bad, bad things.

Monday Madness: A Ludicrous Limerick Called, “Ode to a Salad”

Behold! A poem that came to me this afternoon as I ate my lunch: This is a ballad that is all about salad; It rhymes about carrots, and not about ferrets, Its lyrics beset us with lines about lettuce It inanely prattles about grapes, nuts, and apples, It lilts about beans and lush collard greens Of turnips, and beets, and …