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mountain looming in my back yard with irritable bowel syndrome.  Last year it threw up all over my house, this year who knows what it will do so my level of anxiety is high this a.m. I'd take the "important " papers out of the office but the important papers were eaten last year by a 13 foot wall of mud and water. All I have left is a phone bill and an autographed picture of Allen Funt. 
     
    However, I was reminded, by a friend fighting Cancer, that the garage door and the mudslide and the lost papers are just things and can be replaced. Ya know what? She couldn't be more right. All those things, while they "feel" shattering, are just a burp at the banquet table of life. So let's take a moment to reflect on the important things we have and the people we love and be grateful for what we have and then I'll tell you why I hate Beverly Hills. (Look at me getting all soft and mushy)
     
    Feb 27, 2006 - ESTELLE HARRIS COMES TO DINNER.
     
    Last night I was cooking dinner and was reminded of the following story.
     
    Estelle Harris, of Seinfeld fame, had read one of my plays and agreed to do a staged reading here in Los Angeles. She is a wonderful woman; a fine actress and I immediately fell in love with her. I wanted to thank her for all her efforts on my behalf and so one night I invited her over for dinner. I should have taken a gun and shot her, it would have been a lot less painful for her. You see, I completely forgot I can't cook. Can't boil water, I can make toast if I have the recipe.
     
    It was holiday season and I thought I'd make the traditional Christmas meal... Russian brisket. I started at 8 a.m. I got out the crock pot and cut up the veggies, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten fingers... veggies go in the pot.  I added the meat. I added the seasoning. I plugged in the crock-pot... God is good.  I left for the day knowing that dinner would be ready when I arrived and I'd have plenty of time to prepare for Estelle. She was coming over at 7. 
     
    At 3, when I returned and opened the door, there was no brisket smell in the air.  I ran to the kitchen, the crock is ice cold. I forgot to turn it on. Estelle will be here in 4 hours and I go into panic mode.  I empty the crock into a casserole dish and pop it in the oven. I set the electronic oven, which I have used 2 times, to have the meal done by seven and go about the task of setting the table... it's around 5 now and we have brisket smell. God is good.  I need to make the rice. I open the cupboard, grab for the rice, hit the oatmeal container and 3 pounds of oatmeal come pouring out. It's a Lucy sketch.  I'm covered in oatmeal, the floor is covered in oatmeal, the counter is covered in oatmeal, Estelle arrives in 2 hours. I have never done this but I call for the dogs, " MAINTENANCE!!!" I scream and dogs come running.  Within 3 minutes they have eaten all the raw oatmeal off the floor. All I have to clean is the counter and myself.  That's done and the dogs go back to the bedroom. I start all over. I grab for the rice, the bag rips and 4 pounds of long grain brown rice take up their position where the oatmeal just was. There is rice everywhere. My kitchen looked like the bride and groom just left for their honeymoon. Then I remember I need this rice for the meal. No dogs... but they hear the noise of falling food and are in the kitchen like in ten seconds. Picture me fighting them off with a broom. One dog has the broom in his mouth while the other is sucking up raw rice at one pound a minute.  I wrestle the dogs outside and survey what's left.... about one cup and seventeen hairs.  I can do this if I F. H. B. the meal. (Family Hold Back)  I know!  I'll make steamed veggies and that will take up the slack. I get to the kitchen that I now have to clean AGAIN.... I prep the steamed veggies, I make the rice minus the hair and I set the table. God is good.
     
    It's now 7 p.m. and the doorbell rings. It's Estelle and her husband.