The following is a work of fiction.

Not Nick Nolte's Diary, Malibu, California
February 14, 2005

Rosewood

I caught Manolo shaving his legs this morning. Why he was doing it outside is anyone's guess. I'll leave it to you Diary to know if he went above the knee. My accountant has finally tracked down a decent new dining room table. It's a rosewood number, and vaugely reminiscent of one I saw at Sherry Lansing's house in 1993 or so. She also managed to find the time to locate some genuine Post-Its instead of those awful Highland note pads. My accountant, not Sherry, Diary. The difference between them is subtle but important. The note pads, not the ladies. This afternoon I wrapped up some chores in Santa Monica. I saw a homeless woman with a baby doll in a stoller. It made me cry. Then it made me laugh. Life takes on a life of its own, does it not, Diary?