Both of my spouses were confident and talented singers. My first has a beautiful tenor voice and during our marriage, she took weekly lessons; opera was her repertoire of choice. (When we were together, she acted as a man. Now, she is living her true self as a transgender woman.)

He was stretched out on a lounge chair, snoring, with a lit cigarette dangling over a nearby potted plant. "Daddy," I said, as I entered the indoor pool, "you're not supposed to be smoking here."

My raised voice startled my dad. He woke, pushed the stub into the plant's soil, then smiled and said, "Good morning, Princess."

Dear blog fans: I apologize for not publishing a new post this week, but I'm unable to move from my anti-Trump obsession to consider anything else. You see, I traditionally elect an essay theme with this question: "What has been going on in my life that is relatable and universal?"

We are not really nurse, patient, and doctor, but instead, "Extras," or they say in showbiz, "Background." The three of us, along with another 50 or so of our ilk: curious folks who signed on for a kick, partially employed people who do it for extra cash, and TV star wannabes who dream they will be plucked from our troupe for a speaking role.

My mother was the first to appear. "Where's the salt?" she asked, as she steered the bib of an apron over her upswept hairdo.

"No salt," I said. "I'm on a low-sodium diet."

With that, my father leapt to her side. "You think that's bad," he said to his wife, "she's using..." He stopped to pick up the bottle of Extra-Virgin Olive Oil, then continued, "this, this thing, instead of schmaltz."