I'm trying to quit huffing epoxy glue out of grocery bags.

Every day when I open the mail I encounter a find with a brand-new brew of story and emotion.

In general, I always make it my mission to focus on the one person in the audience who seems to be absolutely miserable about being there and try to convert them.

My parents have seen their ups-and-downs but are still married after 40 years, so that's something.

I have a black Grandma and white Grandma. My white Grandma lives in Fort Lauderdale, paints, and teaches bridge. She's wonderful. My black Grandma, equally wonderful, is my neighbor across the street, Bobbie, who's always insisted that I call her Grandma, and honestly, over the years she's become a real Grandma to me.

But in the end, I suppose, we only have one life to lead, and the roads not taken would always outnumber and outshine the roads we end up taking, day by day, without plan.

On tour, it's hard to do much writing, but if I'm on a deadline, I find a way.