Say Hello to my Old Doctor in New Zealand

This morning at the Santa Monica Farmer's Market, a woman read my head and then said: "My old doctor lives in New Zealand. Will you please say hello to Dr. Millford (or something like that) for me? Say Marla (or Marie or something like that) says hello."

I explained there's a North and South Island in New Zealand. She just said to please say hello. So I said okay. I hope her doctor goes white water rafting, scuba diving or parapenting because I'm not planning to schedule medical visits on my adventure. . . .

Later this morning I had a cranial doppler test to make sure a procedure I had in July definitely closed a flap in my heart called a PFO (google it). They wanted to make sure I didn't have any bubbles in my brain (they inject some agitated saline solution to determine this). The two first year residents, Andre and Te (sp?) who administered the test were pleased to see my shaved head as it made their job easier.

My doctor, Jonathan Tobis, M.D. was glad that there were zero bubbles. The irony is that I expected nothing less than zero bubbles, while he seemed a bit relieved. Given the fact I had my head shaved for a flight to New Zealand, perhaps it was logical for him to worry I might still have bubbles in my brain.

Which just goes to show Los Angelenos need to know more about the marvels of New Zealand and the importance of my mission as a cranial billboard.

Anyone I meet who has been to New Zealand seems to understand my willingness to give up my hair in exchange for a ticket.

Tomorrow I go to Neal and Gordon's wedding. They are tying the knot while it's still legal in case Prop. 8 passes. I've already warned them about my shaved head b/c I thought they might think my missing hair was a bad omen if I surprised them. Instead, I hope my cranium will signal great adventures ahead.

One question I have is whether a bouquet will be thrown. If I catch I'm assuming I'm promised the partner of my choice, despite my short, short, short hair status.