First Sermon
My first homily at the age of four. Being Southern, the sermon warned of a grievious sin against good food.
Musings
My first homily at the age of four. Being Southern, the sermon warned of a grievious sin against good food.
Mama Bear springs into action when a crackhead holds her baby sister hostage. You can’t make this stuff up, people.
Mama’s fondest Chicago memory wasn’t of the racial unrest she helped quell. It was of the stud muffin at her door.
Endoscopy. Holter Monitor. Meds. Cessation of caffeine. Echocardiogram. Stress echo test. Nuclear stress echo test. This is how I’ve spent the last 2 months after
We wrote. We did the soul work. We laughed. Then laughed some more. We hiked. Crafted collages. Donned tattoos. Cried. Uplifted. Listened. Shared goosebumps. Reveled
Lauretta joins WRGA Host Tony McIntosh for a half-hour chat that’s kinda all over the place. Entertaining…but all over the place.
She was sitting there alone studying in the college library. All I could see was a massive, sparkling crown on her head–and a purple sash
A tale so fantastic I wouldn’t believe it–had it not happened to me. Douse the overhead lights, curl up with a hot beverage, and enjoy
A story about the assumptions we make–and the consequences of lousy artistic skill.
There’s more than meets the nose when it comes to those treacly and comfort food aromas of fall candles. Lauretta busts the conspiracy wide open