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?  

“What’s up, Homie?” When I heard that, I knew there’d be trouble. When I was stopped for my seatbelt, I was also cited for not having proof of insurance so I went to the courthouse today to show proof that I had it all along. There were about 100 people in line and I noticed one guy close to the front who wasn’t there before. He was hard to miss, this middle Eastern man, with his red shirt, tight jeans, D&G belt buckle, a pack of Marlboros squashed in the front pocket and the shiniest pointiest shoes I’ve ever seen. He was watching a movie on his iPad and talking on his cell phone while standing directly under the “No Cell Phones” sign. There was some rumbling starting in the crowd and finally a young guy wearing a tight T-shirt with big muscles confronted him. “You cut in line,” he said and Red answered, “No, I didn’t.” “I saw you and you are not going to the window before me,” said the T-shirt/muscles guy. We all watched as they continued to argue and then an even bigger guy, with an even tighter T-shirt and even bigger muscles, got in T-shirt’s face. “What’s up, homie?” Oh oh. The crowd was silent and frozen still. “I said what’s up, homie? You got a problem?” When T-shirt tried to explain that Red cut in line, Bigger Muscles said, “Relax, man. Let it go.” “I won’t let it go, he cut in line.” Then chests got bigger, we got quieter, and BM said, “You want to take it outside?” “Yeah.” They started to move and I asked the guy in front of me, who weighed in at around 300, if I could take shelter behind him. I cowered in his girth as T-Shirt and his posse and BM and his homies headed outside. There was no security. The next thing I know, they are all talking and cooling down in the corner. We in line were so relieved no one died, we all started talking and laughing about it and it helped pass the time. Five minutes, later, Red shirt was back in line, cutting in front of about 60 people, but no one complained. After an hour and a half, I got to the window, cleared myself, paid a $25 fine, and as I started to leave, the clerk said, “You know, you could have done this in the mail.”

I had a marathon nosebleed last night that lasted over an hour, from 1:00 to 2:15 am. By the time it was over, there was blood everywhere – on the sheets, pillow, nightshirt, bathroom counter and floor. Usually, I can stop my nosebleeds with some pressure but every time I let go of the pressure, blood came pouring out like a faucet. I realize that I blow my nose a lot due to allergies and I guess I went too far. This was coming from the posterior and (stop reading here if you’re queazy already) going down my throat and coming out of both nostrils. That part was scary. When I started spitting up blood, Denis wanted to take me to the hospital but I refused to go and tried one more time to sit still (and forward) and squeeze my nose, this time for 20 minutes nonstop. The bleeding slowed down and finally stopped but I got very little sleep. In the morning, the bedroom looked like a crime scene, and so did my face. I’ll be more careful next time.

Remember when Robert Blake’s wife met her untimely demise behind Vitello’s Restaurant in Studio City and nobody knew whodunnit? Well, the restaurant is still going strong and has a lounge with live music. I had never been inside before but Denis found out that a group we had seen on PBS was performing last night and we went. They are an “a capella” group called M-Pact and they were amazing! It’s six guys with no instruments at all, just their voices, and you’d swear there was a live drummer and bass and a whole band playing with them. I’ve never seen anything like it in person. As a musician myself, I was mesmerized while they sang, wondering how they did it. The guy who did the drums with his voice even did a drum solo that seemed humanly impossible. Anyway, it was a great night and we parked right where the crime happened, on a side street around the corner. I wonder if they’ll ever find the shooter…

Denis and I went to see “In The Heights” at the Pantages Theater in Hollywood over the weekend. First we had dinner at Musso & Frank Grill, one of the oldest restaurants in Los Angeles (since 1919) – I think we had one of the original waiters!  I’m pretty sure I recognized him from the Last Supper. 🙂 But the food was good.  There’s really nothing like seeing a live show and this one was really good.  The highlight of the night?  I actually wore a dress.  There’s no photo of my in my dress but here’s a pretty picture from my garden.  And now a quick game of $10,000 Pyramid:

• ~ A daisy in bloom.  
• ~ Jenny in a dress.

        The category:  Things we won’t see again until next spring.

I bought a skirt at the drug store.  At the drug store! Is that wrong?  Was I just conned? They had a rack of summer skirts for $9.99  right at the entry door.  I noticed it when I walked in but thought, “What kind of people are buying clothes at the pharmacy? For God sakes, go to Target, or Ross, or Kohls if you’re broke but not Walgreens. Have we lost our sense of dignity?”  I stuck my nose in the air and passed by the display of colorful skirts.  But one caught my eye so I stopped, looked back and saw a black & white one that would go perfectly with a new top I just got. All of a sudden, I felt a little extra weight on my shoulders. “It can’t hurt to look,” said the left side. “This is a drug store!” said the right. “Where’s your pride? What if somebody sees you?”   I was paralyzed with indecision, but that skirt was so cute – they all were.  I started inching towards the rack, stopped, turned back, turned around again, hoping people would think I forgot my keys. When no one was around, I finally walked over & looked through the skirts – this one was so soft and summery but would it fit?  I looked for a mirror to get a full view but there was none.  And what kind of a drug store has no fitting room? I took my chances and bought it, hoping no one I knew would walk in at that moment, praying that it fit so I would never be in the position of returning clothes to Walgreens. When I got home I tried it on and it fit. I love my new skirt! Then I remembered another cute green one that I also liked and besides, I could always use more floss. I’m going back.

We’re having a heat wave, a tropical heat wave… well not exactly tropical but it’s 100 degrees.

• It’s hotter than two rats humping in a wool sock.
• It’s hotter than a snake’s ass in a wagon rut.
• It’s hotter than the flames under Mel Gibson’s career.

The heat hasn’t hurt my little yellow grape tomatoes. We’re having awesome salads every day!

My popcorn hull seems to have moved on so my day was not a total floss.

-Dad gummit! I think it’s gone.

-I think I feel it again… What the hull?!?

-To tell the tooth, I’m not really sure.