9 p.m., July 27
Diary of a Diva
At home with Buster, Alexa, and Siri
“If you think you’re done, Buster, think again,” he said to the machine as if it could understand him. “I’m just going to keep running you until that floor is clean.”
The gang gets locked up
“I have a confession to make. The four of us tried the escape room downtown.” I didn’t understand why it was a big deal until she finished her confession: “We didn’t make it out.”
Not in it for the illusion of betterment
All my new materials may have been “professional quality” and “intended for adults,” but when the tip of the pencil touched the page, it was childlike joy that coursed through my veins.
Death on the mind — but not because of Halloween
I couldn’t get the idea of death out of my mind. It occurred to me that the only way to control the most unsettling aspect of the inevitability of death was to plan the when and where.
Sneetches and freaks
“I think Madonna’s trying too hard to appear young,” said the oldest among us. “Why can’t she just age gracefully? It’s embarrassing, really.”
“Every single conflict can be boiled down into one underlying problem, and that’s one person in the family not being happy with another person’s choices.”
Ponder the act of stopping to think how lucky we are
“The less you have, the easier it is to get dressed and ready. You only keep things you actually like, or as KonMari says, things that bring you joy.”
“You want every person who works for you in any capacity to be able to make the same kind of intuitive decisions you would make, and you’re absolutely unrelenting when they don’t.”
Even the receptionist at work, who was probably around 40 at the time, took to singing at me each time I passed her desk, “First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage.”
Battling sophistication at the hairline
“I think there’s this fear about it,” David said. “I mean, when I decided to shave my head — that took years of building up courage. Which is ridiculous, because it would have grown back in a matter of weeks.”
“Holding a baby skunk is on my bucket list,” I said. Bob shot David an Is she for real? look, and David assured him of my sincerity.
I learned that Frank was the first reporter at the scene of that horrific PSA plane crash in 1978, the one I grew up hearing about. He won a Pulitzer Prize for his reporting. How had I not known that?
Disappointed by a less-than-honorable Marine
“It’s just — who does that? What kind of person smashes up someone’s parked car and then leaves without making any attempt to find out who owns it?”
Gary held out his arm and called, “Habibi!” Gasps traveled like a stadium wave as the falcon, rings affixed to its ankle, swooped low down the aisle and then landed on Gary’s glove.
“Did you know that some vanilla flavoring is made from beaver anal secretions?” The word “secretion” is inherently gross to me. Add in excrement, and you have a recipe for scrunch-face.