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.
50 Shades Of Grey, The Sequel
Yeah, yeah, yeah. The book already has two sequels; 50 Shades Darker and 50 Shades Freed. But as a writer, I feel a compulsive need to offer some creative suggestions for the second film should they decide to stray from the book plot. Or heck, maybe E. L. James will write a fourth book, and she can incorporate some of …
No. I Don’t Have Tourrette’s. I’m A Mother.
This morning, as I nursed my one-month-old, ate a bowl of cereal, and spoon-fed my toddler breakfast all at the same time, it occurred to me that if I blogged the way I talk then it would read something like this: Having two young daughters is a lot of – don’t touch that – that fun. My toddler turns two …
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 …
