The dog days of summer bit me hard the other day. And I’m glad they did.
Right now I'm living in paradise.
You know, there's no shortage of ways to humiliate me.
History will dub it "The Incident of the Flying Shoes." The primary players were my mom and my dad; I was still in grade school.
I tell you, I don't know which changes quicker anymore: the dates on the calendar or the price of gas!
You'd think that I'd learn by now that what seems like an easy idea for a Leaven column rarely turns out that way. Take Mother’s Day, for example.
Some images just stick in your mind.
A funny thing happened on the way to the cemetery. . .
"Help!" That's one word guaranteed to get someone's attention.
Picture the Pearly Gates, guarded by an attentive St. Peter. Standing just outside those gates are yours truly and Bill Self, head basketball coach at the University of Kansas.