Here’s a daylily from my garden.  We’re still in a heat wave so Denis and I went to the beach today. We decided to check out the new Santa Monica Place which just opened this month. It’s an outdoor mall right at the ocean.  The best part is the food court on the third level with a huge seating area right over the water. There are two department stores, Bloomingdales and Nordstrom and lots restaurants, shops and entertainment.  It’s a great destination and they have free valet parking for bikes! There’s also a huge central area for entertainment – we saw some hip hop dancers and cheerleaders. We had pizza, then came home and had pie.  I made apple pie for Denis yesterday and he likes it so much he can never wait to have the first piece, but it has to cool first or the apples come spilling out.  So I always put it on the cold granite counter to make it cool down faster. When that spot gets warm, we move the pie to a new cold spot, and we keep moving the pie around until it’s cold enough to eat.  Denis says I make the best apple pie in the world.  He doesn’t do a lot in the kitchen but he’s always willing to move the pie.

“You have arrhythmia,” said the doctor.  “I have what?”  I was not expecting that sobering news. During my annual checkup last week, I was told that I have an irregular heartbeat (arrhythmia). Another reason I cancelled my mammogram last Monday is because I was wearing a heart monitor but I didn’t want to mention it until I knew more. It scared me at first but after an EKG, wearing a heart monitor for a couple of days, followed by an echocardiogram and two visits to a cardiologist, I’m told it’s not life threatening and it’s just something you live with.  Sometimes, if I stand up too fast, I may feel a bit light-headed. (at least I can blame it on that) 🙂  So anyway, things are back to normal and I feel just fine.  Imagine having a mammogram with that heart monitor on and they get the results: “Miss Jones, your stress level on the 16^th was dangerously high.  You need to make a serious lifestyle change!”  Not to worry, it’s all good and I feel fine.

As promised, here’s a picture of my drug store skirt. 

$9.95 !!

I got the message.
My mammogram is re-scheduled for next week.
Women need to kick other women in the behind.
Thanks for kicking!

I cancelled my mammogram appointment today. I had a number of excuses to choose from…
1. It’s too hot.
2. I can’t find my shoes.
3. I’m still going to the bathroom.
4. That darn restraining order.
5. My car ran over some nails.

Grocery shopping is something I enjoy. I find it relaxing to cruise up & down the aisles looking for new products and seeing what produce just came out. But it wasn’t fun today because I was forced to listen to an obnoxious, self-centered woman talking on her cell phone… did I say talking? I meant hollering into her cell phone. She sounded like Fran Drescher on crack. Let me put it this way: If the store was on fire and you had to alert everyone on the loud speaker to evacuate or die, she’d be the one to do it… without the loud speaker. Here’s what I was subjected to in the produce department: “Do you want me to get some wine? I don’t know, it doesn’t really matter. Do you want red? I guess white would be okay. Or maybe red would be better. Maybe we don’t need any wine. What are we going to be having? Red then? I don’t know. Maybe white. What? It doesn’t really matter, but if you want red then… blah, blAH, BLAH!!” I’m not kidding, did she have no idea the decibel level of her searing, grating, voice? I finally stopped, unable to focus on my melons, and gave her the evil eye. I’ll just stare her down and maybe she’ll get the message, I thought. No chance. She just glanced at me, oblivious to the gigantic sound waves emanating from her face, and kept yapping. I tried to escape to the fish department and guess who came around the corner? Princess Von Loudenheimer. I swear some of the frozen fish even woke up. I wanted to say “Shut your pie hole!” but that’s not my style. What a shame if her BMW accidently ran over a mysterious pile of nails. I only thought about it. Okay, I didn’t have any nails.

As a comic on the road I had to fly every week to work the clubs.  One time we were still at the gate and I had my carry-on bag on the floor, getting ready to put it away. “That needs to go under the seat,” said the flight attendant.  I said okay as I was getting organized with my book, snack, etc., “I mean now!” he screamed at me.  Everyone looked up.  He scared me actually, and I shoved it under the seat right away, thinking with that attitude, how does he keep his “people” job.  I wondered what he’d say when he came by with the drink cart but to my surprise, he apologized!  He said he was having a rough day and was out of line.  I didn’t expect that but I also wondered if he meant it or he just didn’t want to be reported (which I would never do). I chose to believe he meant it because he seemed sincere, and everyone is entitled to a bad day.  Having worked in sales and as a waitress, I know it can be challenging to deal with people all day, especially people in the stressful situation of flying today.  I can understand a flight attendant having a meltdown.  I’m surprised that he may go to jail and even more surprised that he has an ex-wife!

I was afraid to go to sleep so I sewed a tennis ball into the back of a T-shirt and slept with no nightmares.  It kept me from sleeping on my back.  I’ll probably do that for a few days, or maybe forever.  My thanks to everyone for their concern and advice.  I should be in good shape to shoot another How-To video tomorrow – I’ll be doing homemade healthy pizza!

I had a nightmare last night that still has me shaken. I was lying on my back, helpless, and someone was pressing on my chest with immense force to where I couldn’t breathe.  The pressure was so intense it had to be more than just someone’s hands but I couldn’t figure out what it was.  And I couldn’t move.  I started screaming and in my half-awake state I realized I was lying on my back and I thought someone was in the room pushing down on me.  Not sure if I was awake or asleep, I screamed even louder as Denis was trying to wake me up.  Still feeling the pressure on my chest,  I then thought I was having a heart attack (they always say you feel pressure on your chest). “It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream,” Denis kept saying as he held my hand.  In a cold sweat, I still felt paralyzed and could barely catch my breath. I finally woke up but I couldn’t get it out of my head and was afraid to go back to sleep in case it came back so I stayed up.  I’m grateful Denis was there.

I heard a helicopter circling over my house yesterday and whenever that happens, I go out with my binoculars to see if it’s the fire department.  This is our fire season and we’re always on alert.  It wasn’t the fire department, it was a private helicopter. Someone was either touring Beverly  Hills or it was hired by a paparazzi to snag a valuable photo.  I felt assured that photo would not be me in my pajamas. I went back inside and then suddenly, I heard an even lower and louder helicopter so I went out again and saw a different one – this was the L.A.P.D.!  It was directly over the house!  They must be looking for an escaped felon who’s hiding out on my hill!  I decided it wasn’t safe outside so I went in and locked all the doors, hoping no one would pick this house as a place to hide.  I imagined that a guy in an orange jumpsuit would come crashing through the back door, tie us up, and barricade himself  in the den.  Then when all negotiations failed with the police (who have now landed in my back yard) and are trying to talk him out with a megaphone, he decides the only way out is to kill himself – and bleed all over my new rug. But that didn’t happen. I found out that the LAPD was trying to chase the paparazzi away who were scaring the neighbors, trying to get a photo of Robbie Williams who was getting married.  Who knew he lived down the street? Who knew he was getting married? Who even knew who he  was?