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2008-05-13 - 5:53 p.m.
I was at the hospital again today to see yet another doctor and give another gallon of blood. I still have no answers, but something oddly funny happened as I was leaving. As I got into the elevator with a crowd of people, an elderly lady with a cane made it in at the last second. As she wedged in next to me, she looked at me and said, in a heavy European accent, "Oh! They're letting you go home today!"


I hope it was a case of mistaken identity. But I have kind of a unique look, so I doubt that was the case. The only other explanations that I can think of are: that I've been spending wayyy too much time at that hospital (which I have been!). Or, I look sick enough for someone to think that I'm just leaving after a long hospital stay.

Or...maybe she was just wacko.

Anyway....on to more doctors. One on Friday, one next week. I wasn't too happy when this doctor today asked, "So, have you had the lumbar pucture yet?" (Otherwise known as a spinal tap). Ummm, no. I didn't know I needed one. And after the bone marrow biopsy, I don't think I want one. And I still have to have the nerve conduction study. Needles, and needles, and more needles. I'm not sure which is foot pain or the process of finding a diagnosis. And so far, none of this crap has given me any answers. The only bright side of today was that I was able to score another prescription for Vicodin. (Don't worry, I don't take it all the time, but it's good to be able to chill when the pain is really bad.)

Stay tuned....things have got to get, worse.

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2008-05-12 - 12:13 a.m.
Back in the day, when I was in 11th or 12th grade, I took Mechanics Class as an elective. (You should all know by now that I'm a "car guy" even though I'm a woman. I was driving an old 944 Porsche (my second car, by then) to school at the time. (that's a whole nother story!))

I learned absolutely nothing in this class, but the teacher was probably one of the best teachers I ever had.

I could talk about all the blah blah blah that he taught us about life. I could talk about how he didn't make us play by the rules. And I could talk about how frustrated I was that he never taught us to change oil...and only briefly showed us how to change a tire.

But the absolute best thing was....that he would ask us to start the class by driving to the nearby bakery to get cheese danishes for the class!

He had figured out that the day and time of our class, was the exact time the new, fresh, hot cheese danishes came out of the oven!

So we would RACE over there before they ran out. (Of course, this took up half the class time!)

I hadn't thought of that in ages. But today we stumbled across a bakery in Santa Monica that had one cheese danish left just before closing....and it was *exactly* like the ones I used to run to get for that class. Talk about memories! One bite and I was back in high school.

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2008-05-07 - 8:45 p.m.
I'm pretty sure that Paris Hilton lives in my neighborhood. Yes...REALLY.

1. I have twice seen a gal that is the spitting image of her. Once, at the beach. Once driving past me in a new but inconspicuous looking Jaguar. (You know, those boring looking Jags that they've been building ever since Ford or some other American car manufacturer took them over.)

2. If *you* were Paris Hilton and wanted to hide out from the Paparazzi, yet still live a life of leisure at the beach, Playa del Rey (my neighborhood) is the Hood to choose. Especially if you are going to drive a non descript Jag. (Example: Go to Hollywood and do all your La La Land limelight stuff, then come back to your lavish beach home that no Paparazzi would ever dream that you would live at. Perfect! At some point during this, though, you'll probably have to switch cars so no one will follow you. But that's what you have *people* for.)

3. Proof of my theory: today there was Paparazzi camped out on the bike path....lying on the ground with long lens cameras aimed directly at the beach houses.

4. I love L.A.!

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