"Going to any good Halloween parties?" the barista at my favorite coffeehouse asked one day this week. Dracula himself could not have struck more horror in my heart. Why didn't he ask me something simple? Let him ask who the next governor should be.
Here's one tic I wish I could tame in my writing: colons. I love colons. Because I love colons so much, it pains me to acknowledge that my attraction to them borders on addiction.
Elaine Soloway is not Shelly Pfefferman. Amazon's new TV series "Transparent," praised by some critics as the best new show of the fall season, is not the story of her family. Soloway can't say that strongly enough.
I want to live to be 85. Well, 92, if my legs are still working. Definitely not 105. Whatever age I'd choose for my swan song, I'm aiming further than Zeke Emanuel.
I was just in Auckland, New Zealand, after a few very pleasant days in Australia, which is just coming out of a pleasant winter and heading into an even more pleasant spring. It's impossible not to remark on the vastness of Australia.
A day that sticks in my mental calendar as brightly as my birthday. Every September, for too many years to mention, I pause to think about a day that sticks in my mental calendar as brightly as my birthday. September 18.