So after nearly a week of killer vertigo, I was finally feeling better. Until yesterday, that is, when we went out to eat.
The universe clearly has it in for me because my kids thought it was hilarious to spin their coasters over and over in my direction. I had to rest my head on my plate to stop my brain from flying out. Lucky for me the garnish was fresh and springy.
(I’m trying really, really hard not to look at the spiral up there too closely, so I’m typing this with my eyes all squinty. It helps a little, and also it’s very Dirty Harry. I knew you’d understand.)
I feel like I’ve been gone a long time. Now that I’m back, I’m noticing stuff. For instance, my last post, as you already know, was a bit on the hallucinatory side. I didn’t actually realize this until today.
Also, I’ve been looking at my new blog header. I sort of remember making that. And I’m pretty sure I like it. Yeah. It’s good. Pretty sure.
The thing is, it’s a little more disturbing than I remembered it being, a week or so ago. Maybe all the Mad Hatter disorientation has altered my perspective, but now I’m thinking it might say things about my psyche that are better shared only with my therapist.
Because the ostrich may or may not be wearing a can-can dress. Made of red poppies, which everyone knows is code for opium; this was totally unintentional. Probably. I don’t remember.
The ostrich, by the way, is a real one I took a photo of at Solvang this summer, just as he was contemplating charging our car with his ropy neck, pursed beak and Manson Family stare. It’s all bald-headed transvestite aggression here at WWYT.
The house in the background is also from a vacation photo. It’s a spooky/cool Victorian house outside of Lompoc that I took a picture of, just after we’d escaped from behind the tractor we’d been following for miles and miles. Several of the back windows of the house were broken out, but I think people live there. Note: If this is your house, can I come over and look around inside? Let me know. Unless you’ve stuffed your dead mother and propped her up in the front window. Then never mind.
Admit it. It looks like the Norman Bates house now that I’ve messed with it. Especially with that shadow from the turret that looks like the silhouette of Alfred Hitchcock with a topknot. It does! Go look. I’ll wait.
The man in the window, and the tightrope-walker lady are from old pictures I cut up. The man is supposed to be laughing happily, and in the original picture, he looks happy, like someone told him a great 18th century knock-knock joke. Here, I’ll show you:
See? He’s kinda sweet. The problem is, when you shrink him down and put him in the Norman Bates house, he gets all creepy and threatening, and big, because he’s too big for the window and therefore suggests your blind butler, Lurch, is cracking up and maybe you should give him a vacation before he finds you and crushes you with his gangly hands.
Also, there’s the lady on the roof.
She’s apparently either balancing a sombrero or a giant nacho plate above her head as she skips along the rooftops. That’s not weird.
It’s actually a parasol in the original picture (which I can’t find right now, so you’ll have to take my word for it), but I suppose she represents my fear of falling in front of a hostile south-of-the-border audience while wearing restrictive clothing. It’s a common phobia. Also it represents my love of jalapeno cheese.
Factor in the giant storm that seems to be blowing in, and I think you’ll agree that I’m pretty
This week I gained three followers, and then just as quickly lost three. I’m sure this has nothing to do with my malevolent blog header. Or my obscure post titles. Or the way I made up the word “resty” last time. Probably just coincidence.
I’m not worried though. My latest fortune cookie fortune assures me that I’ve got it all under control: