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Expounding on Nothing

Impartial Observer

 
For his entire life, Mr. B has refused to allow a band-aid to be placed anywhere on his person. Suddenly, Mr. B is infatuated with band-aids and consistely wears one directly over his left eyebrow. Interesting statement. I shall speak with Dr. Griesbach about this development on Monday.

 
Bodhi is visiting for the weekend, much to Mr. B's delight. He has already shown off his prowess at roof-dancing, and also how far he can fling a boogie board from the roof's apex. Bodhi has never seen such talent, nor anyone with more vim and vigor than she has.

Wait, what is that noise? Oh, Mr. B is playing with the clock-radio. He has . . . . . . . tuned into a radio station playing Frank Sinatra!

 
My Sonicare survived the 15 minute teeth cleaning by Mr. B, however my personal brush looks like it went through a grinder.

 
Mr B is brushing his teeth by himself with the electric Sonicare toothbrush!!!

Oh my God, too bad it is MY BRUSH on the end of that thing! Hmmph.

 
My dentist 's name is Grace Preston. She like to ask numerous quesitons while simultaneously jamming three dental utensils in one's mouth. She stops and stares, waiting for an answer which usually sounds something like, "Iehh, hawa weah uh oowayee." Dear Grace, you are unusually chatty.

 
When I was a wee girl, the best days were when my Mom would make our special lunch: macaroni soup. Simple to make, and enormously satisfying. Boil macaroni (shells preferably), drain, return to pot, add milk to cover and a half a stick of butter or more, salt and pepper. Heat through and chow down. Unfortunately when I started Kindergarten, I didn't get to stay home, eat macaroni soup and watch Bewitched.

I still make macaroni soup a few times a year.

 
Last night Mr. B yelled out at 4:22 a.m.: "Gwamma, Gwampa, . . . . CWAP!!!!!

 
My gardener's name is Servando Ramos. I believe that he is a vaquero at heart: collared shirt tucked into snug jeans, wide leather belt with enormous belt buckle, boots, straw western style hat. It all adds up. He's a pretty sharp dresser, very professional, and very nice. Maybe I'll ask him out on a date.

Just kidding Mom.

 
Ugh, crunchy stuff under my sandal on the bathroom floor. Mr. B is into the Epsom Salts again.

 
Note to self: When one is extremely hungry, do NOT decide to cook an artichoke for dinner. It takes FOREVER to cook. I'll starve to death, meow.

 
Darkness has fallen, putting an end to one the the most beautiful, brilliant days we've had here in LA LA Land in forever. I read the entire Sunday paper (not really that difficult - it is LA for God's sake) outside, sipping Earl Grey, and avoiding the gaze of the neighborhood evil-doers (those damned squirrels). Folks from every hamlet remotely close to Tinseltown came in droves to the beaches, making navigation on PCH almost impossible. Only one motorcyclist down, hit by the unpleasant woman in the white Mercedes wearing camoflage head to toe. A sneak preview of summer.

 
Apparently, C-note did not avoid school on Friday because of Dr. Seuss, reading or any other inane idea. It was pajama day at school. Who thinks of these things?