In an open letter to cornbread,

“You have filled me with a longing desire. In addition to greasing you with a bit of bacon grease, and spicing you with some hot pepper, there is something else. I want to sing Prince songs to you. This is how deep this yearning pulls….”

In an open letter to a Pantene commercial,

“Commercials usually don’t move me to buy products, however, if there is a song in it that involves both, ‘it be hot like a desert, yo,’ and ‘she be walkin’ like an animal,’ it’s likely that I’m going to track the song down and maybe buy it.”

In an open letter to the show Dexter,

“You made me want to dance last night. I don’t think that was the right answer. But, you see, Angel Batista was dancing merengue and I wanted to burst through the screen and join in. This makes me feel vaguely dirty.”

In a second open letter to her son,

“Dude, you didn’t think I’d text your dad when you told me that you had a shower today. Thing is, if you tell me that you had a shower today and you tell me that you put on deodorant and your armpits smell somewhere between zesty and piquant, then something is wrong. You probably should […]

In a guilt-filled open letter to her son,

“You know all those words you just said? The ones to which I responded by nodding my head and saying ‘uh-huh?’ The only one of those words I understood was ‘dinosaur.’ The rest of them flowed over me like water.”