The Gelato Diet

It was a typical day.

Or so I thought.

Wandering the aisles of the grocery store, I glanced dispiritedly at the contents of my cart: cat food for the stray, milk, bananas, cold cuts.

Then I remembered that my parents had half committed to coming over for dinner and I considered buying a pint of ice cream so my father would have something he liked for dessert.

The Dreadful Perry Mason

Peri-menopause has not been kind to me. Being in my late 40s (not an appealing word—“late”), this harrowing and unpleasant condition has dogged me for years. Far longer, according to my bemused and yet overly earnest doctor, than is typical.

What a thing to say to a woman who has suffered enough.