Diary of a Diva

Cow-eye juice calamity

“Can you talk for a minute? Something horrible happened to me yesterday.” Jane didn’t bother to identify herself; she didn’t need to. My bleary eyes had easily made out the familiar image of her face as

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Before picture phones (Cheech ,sans Chong, and Barb party)

  David sighed as I asked him to scoot out of the way a third time so I could remove another drawer from the chest by the bookshelf in the tiny office we share. “Are you

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The Perfect Crumple (Barb and David Destroy a Book – It’s Art)

Only one edition of the Joy Davidman novel Weeping Bay has ever been printed, and that was in 1950. Sixty-three years later, my husband spent weeks tracking down a copy of the book. After sifting through secondhand bookstores

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Diva Las Vegas

I found myself hesitating when a friend asked where David and I were going for our mini vacation. I finally responded in the least declarative way possible: “Vegas?” “Vegas? Why Vegas?” She looked like she was

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Cheats and Liars

  “Hey, do you know a guy named Max McEvil? He dropped your name, said he might be doing some work with you.” I raised my brows as I re-read the name, which I didn’t recognize.

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Divine Manipulation

  My friend and creative cohort Terri likes to joke about how manipulative she thinks I am. “I’m not manipulating you,” I’ll say, to which Terri will respond, “How do I know that your saying that

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Life’s Tripod

One of the most troubling aspects of “living in the fast lane” is that there is no exit. There is no slowing down. The only way to stop is to crash. In the real world, I’d

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Touched by a Lemur

My sister Jane — a bold, don’t-take-no-for-an-answer saleswoman — lives by the adage, “It doesn’t hurt to ask.” Even when she knows a request is unlikely to be granted, she still throws it out there because,

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2600 Miles Away

  My father refers to David and me as “lesbians.” Dad means no insult — it’s just that nearly all of the couples he knows who seem to be attached at the hip also happen to

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Into Mexico

Sometimes I forget that a mere 15 miles away from downtown San Diego is a-whole-nother country, with its own customs and laws that, despite their close proximity to America, are light years away from those to

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