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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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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