I am very rarely insomnuble...insomniacacal...very rarely do I have insomnia. I am what you call an Easy Sleeper. Which is to say, I have fallen asleep in a variety of cool places; movies, parties, public transportation (much to my husband's chagrin--I believe he called it "low-rent") my living room chair, the car (passenger, not driver's seat) once in a McDonald's when I was dead tired, (which amused the heck out of my Irish friend Greg, who found me there the morning after a long night of imbibing) once in a classroom, and every night during night-time feedings with my children. I've been asked if I have a mild case of narcolepsy, but it turns out, no, I'm just really lazy. Any time sleeplessness has been a problem, it's typically due to a lot of stress, because once my mind starts going, it just doesn't stop.
Come to find out, if I have a diet coke after 4:00 in the afternoon, I will be sleepless. For many hours.
We went to a Giant Fair yesterday, good times were had by all, more on that later. So getting home at dinnertime, I needed a little something, and since I don't use intravenous drugs I thought I'd have a diet coke.
Evidently I have the constitution of a 75 year old, because that's the only thing I can think of that would keep me up until 3:30am.
First, the tossing and turning. Then, after John came to bed, the running commentary (mine) on the low quality of the sheets currently on our bed, and the fact that they have little pills on them, making them bumpy, and according to me at 1:00am, totally uninhabitable. Ergo, I do my husband a favor and retire to the living room, where I proceed to watch 4 episodes of Sex and the City in a row. And they were TIVOd, which means I had to constantly fast forward and re-start new episodes. A small bump in the road in the grand scheme of things, not truly what can be called a "problem," but when you're running on no sleep, nothing's funny and everything's about you.
I finally go back to bed, figuring sheer exhaustion would pave the way for sleepy dreamland, and have this bizarre half-wakeful, half-asleep dream in which there were many people planning an event and my big problem was to decide which t-shirts everyone had to wear, which had to match, and furthermore, what slogan should the t-shirt have. I had to order different sizes, different colors for all of them and no-one liked what I ordered. This is the third night in a row I've had a dream about party-planning woes, and if you know me, you know what that's all about. Let's just say that I am not J Lo in The Wedding Planner, for a wide (and I mean wide) variety of reasons.
Needless to say, when I woke up from that first dream and realized what I was dreaming about, I was annoyed for two reasons. One, because at that moment I was awake again and it was only 4:00, and two, because I was having such a stupid dream reflective of the things I obsess about.
God, that was tedious. Sorry.
So, on to the Giant Fair. This is a yearly event that I have always loved, partly because I just love fall and anything to do with fall, and the Giant Fair means fall is here. Also, it's great for people watching, because the Fair brings out every single kind of person in the world. Except Aborigines. And the Amish. Never seen either of those types there. Everyone else was there though. I think cameraphones are just goofy but it's the first time I really wish I'd had one so I could capture forever the proof of some of the bad fashion choices I witnessed, not to mention just general wierdness. But I'm sure if you've ever been to a fair, you've seen similarly attired folks, so I won't bore you with the details, except to say, If Your Hair Is the Color and Consistency of Straw, Please, Please Don't Add to it by Sporting a Mullet and Teasing the Top so High that It Has Altitude Sickness. And Regularly Using a Tanning Bed. And Living on Cigarettes And Coffee. And Finally, Showing That Your Camel Has Toes.
'Nuff Said.
Captain Picklepants loves crazy rides. He could have gone on every ride there if we'd let him, and John took him on most of them. Because he knows I have a weaker stomach than our cat with her Daily Hairball. Until he spotted a ride he figured any Wuss could handle (i.e., Me) and asked if CP wanted Mommy to take him on the ride.
Big Mistake.
Remember the Teacups at the amusement park? Kiddie ride? Cute tots laughing their heads off? Well, this was the same idea but with Dragons, and it was called the Dizzy Dragon. That should have been his first clue. So we board the Dragon, and realize that the idea is the five dragons spin on an axis, and each individual dragon can spin according to the whim of the dragon Guests. Which including me and my boy, another Dad and his little girl, and little Tatiana, on her own. It's about 110 degrees in the bowels of this dragon, and the Dad explained to me (wink wink) that this was so it was realistic, because Dragons are fire-breathing creatures, so of course it would be hot. "Oh yes, Ha Ha Ha, you have no idea that your glasses are about to be covered in my sick."
So the thing starts spinning, every time I pass John (which is about once every 1/2 a second) he's in various stages of being doubled-over, laughing his head off. I catch his eye long enough to mouth the following, in no particular order: "I (spin) Hate (spin) You," (spin spin spin) "Piss (spin) Off," and "Stop (spin) Laughing (spin) or I'll (spin) Leave You." It was the longest ride ever recorded in the history of amusements parks, and it wasn't even a little bit amusing. Not to me, anyway. I staggered straight to the bathroom and the only thing that kept me from losing my mini-donuts was a quick splash of water to the face. And the thought of how I had to remain coherent so I could Gillooly my husband's knees at some later point in the day.
Aside from my three minutes in hell, it was a great day. I love seeing my kids giddy with fun, and despite the fact the Squishy was nap-less and we all walked a total of 15 miles, it was well worth it.
I missed seeing some Aborigines though. That would have been cool.
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