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Diary of a Diva

Detecting hypocrisy in Madonna-bashers

The women were gathered around a table. Their hands remained at their sides while their eyes indulged in lingering gazes at the arrangement of appetizers: cheeses, fruit, bread, and hot spanakopita bites, whose consistency of form

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Royal pain in the wedding

To say I was pleased we were the first to arrive would be an understatement. It wasn’t until my cheeks began to ache that I realized how hard I’d been grinning. It made sense, my smile

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The “joy” thing

It was a few weeks ago that my sister Jane started talking weird. Her new way of speaking revolved around a strange new word. In emails she spelled it, “KonMari.” This word (almost always followed by

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The hardship of finding good help

I hesitated to say the word because I knew I’d catch flak. At first, I just danced around it. “I have a person coming,” I’d say, or, “I’m waiting on a friend…who’s also going to help

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When your Airbnb guest won’t leave

It’s a steamy afternoon in August, and Kristen Lang sits, frazzled and deflated, on the patio at Ponce’s, hoping to cool her exasperation with a margarita. When her husband moved out two years ago, leaving Lang

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In love with the child-free life

Without trying to parse the babble, I allowed the familiar clamor to wash over me as I perused each face upon which my eyes happened to fall: my mother, David, my three sisters, their husbands, and

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Freak flag

I inspected myself in the mirror over my sink in the bedroom. David was still in bed, skimming through news headlines on his iPhone. When he glanced up, I caught his eye in the reflection. “What

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Is that a skunk in your pocket?

The three hours went by like a time-lapse movie: people appeared and disappeared; the drink in my hand was full, empty, and mysteriously filled again. It was the reception party for David’s annual photographic art exhibition

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Agewise

There was so much familiarity in the old lady’s eyes that when she moved toward me, my arms instinctively opened in anticipation of a hug, but her arms remained at her side. “You’re Barbarella, right?” I

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Mr. Monster Truck

We didn’t think much of the noise. After a few months of settling in to our new place, we’d learned to tune out the random racket of the parking lot below our bedroom window: neighbors calling

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