Losing my physician
I told my stalwart (and willowy) CEO Melissa Evans that I was going to write about my doctor’s impending retirement, to which she replied, “Do you think anyone’s going to care about your doctor’s impending retirement?”
Well, when was the last time I wrote about things that anyone is going to care about? Our water-destroyed guest bedroom? Our problems involving getting new doors? People stealing my car’s catalytic converters?
Even when I wrote about a possum crawling over my head while I was sleeping. That was about me; nobody else cared, I don’t think.
Anyway, I went to see the wise and liberal Dr. Marvin Zamost last Wednesday for my annual checkup, which generally entails him telling me to get more exercise, quit my evening’s cocktails, quit with the carbohydrates and for God’s sake lose some weight.
Zamost had provided me with the opening lines for my book, “I’m Dyin’ Here,” when he told me a few years ago, “You’re getting to the age now where your body will be going through some changes — all of them bad.”
This time, he had more bad news. A.) He’s retiring in two years and B.) The medical profession is currently in tatters to the point where he doesn’t know anyone who’s competent enough to refer his patients to after he retires.
I don’t know what I’m going to do, either, if I manage to blunder through two more years of no exercise, daily cocktail hours, loads of carbs and no noticeable weight loss.
In my defense, I have managed to cut down on carbs a bit over the last year, I take my dogs for a walk every evening and I’ve switched from martinis (to some degrees) to gin and tonic, so there’s a good chance I’ll live for a long, long time, even though Dr. Zamost might disagree.
What I watched last week
Trying to find a good series to sink my teeth into, I decided to give “Baby Reindeer” a shot and now my life has changed, not necessarily for the better, but definitely for the weirder.
Look, we’ve all been stalked at one time or another. It’s scary and it’s — weird.
The seven-episode Netflix series, for extra verisimilitude, stars and was written by Richard Gadd, who was relentlessly stalked in real life by a woman (played by Jessica Gunning as Martha Scott). Gadd’s character, called Donny Dunn, becomes increasingly traumatized as the stalking accelerates.
Martha begins stalking Donny when she comes into the bar that he’s tending on a cold evening and he gives her a cup of tea and, when she has no money, pays for it.
That simple act of kindness turns into a strange and twisted campaign by Martha, who shows up everywhere Donny goes and disrupts his life at every turn, including busting up his relationship with a trans woman (played excellently by trans actress Nova Mau).
It’s one of the strangest series I’ve ever seen, and for a while, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, but as the days trailed off after I finished it, I liked it more and more.
Worldwide Breakfast Tour 2024
As we continue sampling The Most Important Meal of the Day (TM) throughout the world, my daughter Hannah and I traveled to Belmont Shore in the sleepy little village of Long Beach, Calif. to fire up our day, mealwise, at Breakfast Republic, 5313 E. Second St. (As a bit of an aside, I’m not sure why addresses on Second Street always include the “East” designation, since there is no West Second Street; it fizzles out before it gets to the city’s Mason-Dixon Line of Pine Avenue.)
We were looking forward to our visit because of the restaurant’s sprawling and inventive menu that includes such adventures as Breakfast Jambalaya, Crab and Crawfish Benedict and Pineapple Upside Down Pancakes.
I had a semi-fiery Jalepeño Bacon Cheddar Sausage Omelet, which will last me until Thanksgiving, while Hannah went for the fairly tame Bacon Pancakes, which had four strips of bacon cooked inside four buttermilk pancakes.
I didn’t care much for the diced house potatoes, but I did appreciate the coffee choices. I had your basic cappuccino, which was very good, and Hannah got the embarrassing-to-order Sweet Cocky, a cold brew with vanilla and half and half.
Breakfast Republic is the sort of place where you need to try a half-dozen plates before you can give it a credible grade, but I’d nevertheless give it a C-plus for starters with a chance to improve the grade on a possible subsequent visit.