MY SON, THE ROCK

Just got home from the doctor's and Beast's annual checkup and flu shot. Not a peep out of him when he got the needle. Ah, but tell him he's got to turn off the Yo Gabba Gabba for lunch and watch the waterworks commence.

AND APPARENTLY I'M OKAY

Noodle and Beast were fascinated by the wires and electrodes and whatnot coming off the Holter monitor I was wearing yesterday. 24 hours of that attached to me was what I got for mentioning offhandedly to the doctor that every three or four weeks I have heart palpitations just as I'm drifting off to sleep. No biggy, sez he, but he had me wear the device as a precaution nonetheless. Which means that YOWCH the nurse OWWWW yesterday ARGHH pulled off YEOWWW seven AIYAYAYAYAAAGH electrodes from my MOMMY chest hair KELLYCLARKSON.

And supposedly I'm fine, though I could stand losing two or three stone. Hard to do what with me being married to a culinary genius whose family hails from the land that invented Molson and poutine.