Yes, Mother and I visited Wheeler Resort to relax, take one of Deane’s vaunted “yogo” classes, enjoy the aromatherapy ravine and have a delicious “new meat/vegetable democracy” dinner in The Emerelda Cafe. But when Dr Elcott slid into the driver’s seat next to Mother, ahead of us motoring north, I tensed up and decided to just keep my mouth shut for the 6 hour drive. You see, I like Dr. Elcott just fine but when he butts into me and Mother’s plans, sliding into the driver’s seat, with the left arm out the window and pointing out sites I’ve seen a million times before, I get the creeped out feeling he’s trying to act like “daddy” with me in the backseat and an all-day sucker pushed into my mouth. I’m almost 50, thank you very much. So when we pulled into Novato and stopped at Safeway, Mother and Dr Elcott picked up steaks and potato salad and I went next door to Irving’s for a magazine (yes, okay, it was an adult one, feel better?) and some Twizzler sticks. I had it in mind that I’d relax in my room (mother and I always book two suites, adjoining) reading my magazine and mindlessly eating Twizzlers. Later, that night, I felt as if I’d been probed by an invisible finger and I made the mistake of going on the air and telling Mother. And what happens? The whole thing becomes the subject of a giggle festival on the Hendrie show with everybody assuming I spent the afternoon pounding my d****. So I looked at the pictorials and the back-of-the-magazine ads, reached down for Twizzlers from the bag on the floor and relaxed. And that means Larry spanked the day away? Guess what? I’d rather do that then hang with Mother and Dr Elcott while he gas-bags that Elcott religious claptrap well into the night.